Icefall
by thepensword
Summary: The apocalypse is ice and snow and it's all Shouto's fault. Now he's alone, with no warmth in his life, in a broken, frozen world. Then a boy with green eyes and a smile like the sun stumbles into his life, and from that moment on, everything changes. Shouto's not sure if it's a change for the better, but he does know that he'd rather have this than anything he ever had before.
1. green eyes

**me: *has way too many stories that i haven't updated in forever***

 **me: wow, maybe i should finish those.**

 **also me: *writes a long-winded multi chapter tododeku fic***

 **Cover art is by me! Please do not steal it!**

* * *

When Shouto was young, he thought that, when the time came, the world would end in flames.

He was wrong.

When society breathed its last breath, it did not breathe heat. It did not breath sickness or anarchy. The end of the world came in winter, with frigid air and the happy cries of children as the snow began to fall.

And fall, and fall, and fall.

The end of the world would be born of ice, and it would be Shouto's fault.

* * *

 _The apocalypse should have zombies,_ Shouto thinks idly. _Or government corruption. Or, really, something more interesting._

He knows it's foolish. He knows it's selfish. But he can't help it. He stands on the tip of the First Glacier and watches the gentle rocking of the sea-ice and he is hopelessly bored and desolately alone.

The world is locked in ice, and it's all because of him. Because he lost control and didn't know how to stop himself.

Now he must live with the consequences.

The consequences, in his case, are total isolation. He'd never had many friends in the Before, but in the After he has none. The only people he ever sees are Fuyumi (occasionally), his three attendants (unspeaking servants), and, of course, his father.

His father.

Shouto's father is a hero. He is made of flame and fury. He is bold, larger-than-life. He has saved so many, his warmth a beacon in the icy wasteland the earth has become.

His warmth is skin-deep. Shouto's seen underneath it.

(It's wrong, he thinks, to hate his father. He can't seem to drum up the strength to care.)

Shouto stands on the First Glacier and stares out at the sea. He thinks of his father and the disappointingly boring end of the world. He thinks of ice and flame and fear and rage. He thinks of control and lack thereof.

He inhales the frigid air and then heads back to the Castle.

* * *

Once upon a time, back in the Before, the building had been Castle Endeavor. It had never been very welcoming, with its high, dark walls and its intimidatingly large gates. But it had been open. It had been full.

Now it stands empty on a plane of ice. Most of its windows are dark. It rarely sees visitors and it is only inhabited full-time by its former prince.

Shouto is very much alone.

The halls are cold and dark, lit only by the occasional candle and warmed only by the insufficient insulation the castle walls provide. Shouto's breath forms clouds in front of him and his footsteps echo back at him, the only reply he gets from the silent, empty place. Technically, he isn't supposed to leave the Castle at all, but who is there to stop him? As long as his father doesn't find out, Shouto can come and go as he pleases.

He could run away, if he wanted, but Shouto never goes beyond the First Glacier. He's thought about it before, but something always stops him. Standing on ice miles deep, the remnants of the beach cottage far below, Shouto always looks out across the ice-covered ocean and goes no further.

He's trapped not only by the will of his father, but also by his own guilt and his own fear. Fear of what he'll find out there, what he'll see in the faces of what few people are left.

He's sure it would shatter him.

So he stays.

There's a shuffling sound in the darkness. Shouto pauses, brow furrowing, and glances downwards. A spot of white, cast in shadow, but lit just slightly by the narrow window opposite. He bends down on one knee and peers closer, surprised when he finds himself face to face with the beady black eyes of a bird.

A raichō, its wing bent at an awkward angle and its small eyes watching him as it tries to shuffle away.

Shouto stares, unsure what to do. "How did you get in?" he asks it, even though he knows it can't answer. A breeze ruffles his hair and he stands, gaze drawn to the window which is slightly agape.

"Ah," he says softly. "I see."

The raichō must have hit the glass and fallen to the ledge, where presumably it had shuffled inside. It is clearly injured, with its bent wing and glassy eyes.

Tentatively, Shouto bends down again and scoops his fingers around the bird. It tries to flap its wings, panicking at the contact. Worried that it'll only injure itself further, Shouto cups his thumbs over its back and brings it against his chest.

It's warm, and soft. Shouto can feel its heartbeat, a fast-paced drumming against his palms.

Shouto has no means to help this animal and no means to care for it. If his father found out, he would surely insist the raichō be left outside to fend for itself. But it is small, and injured, and left on its own it would surely not survive.

Shouto has caused enough death. If he can't bring back all the many lives lost to the ice, at least he can save this small one.

The raichō settles down, calmed by the steadiness of his hands and the heat of his body. Chest tightening with an emotion he can't identify, Shouto continues down the corridor, bird in hand.

* * *

Everyone knows the stories of the Evil One. The Icy King. The Herald of the End.

No one's ever seen him, but the stories are everywhere. He's ten feet tall, or six feet tall, or average height. He has the strength of ten men, with broad shoulders and a wide chest, or he is thin as a rod, an icy spire. He is young, or old, or somewhere in between.

Some say he's the devil. Some say he's a criminal. Some say he's a god. Some say he doesn't even exist.

Izuku is sixteen years old when he learns the truth.

The Ice King isn't a monster.

He's a teenage boy.

At the moment he is trudging through the snow on the way to the trading post. Wearing two sweaters underneath his jacket and three different scarfs, Izuku is as bundled up as he can be and still be capable of walking, and yet even with all that he's chilled to the bone.

Ice crystals crunch under Izuku's boots and he's just thankful the ground isn't slippery today. Last time he'd made the trip, he'd slipped and fallen and his sled had gone rolling back down the hill. He'd fallen again trying to catch it, and by the time he got to it, it'd already lodged in a small crevasse and spilled some of its precious contents down into the depths of the ice where no one would ever reach it.

This is the age of the Great Ice. Supplies are scarce and no one can afford to lose any. The world is unforgiving, and mistakes can easily lead to disaster.

Life in the Before was simple. Mom went to work at the senior center and Izuku went off to school. Afterwards, he'd tag along with Kacchan (when he was younger) or study the practical applications of Kosei (when he was older), writing it all down in journal after journal. For the future, he'd told himself, but the future did not came the way he wanted it to.

Now, in the After, life is simple in a different way. Every day mirrors the rest; he wakes early and shovels snow from the carefully formed pathways outside their small home while his mother cooks breakfast. After they eat, he tends to his garden, and once he's done with that he treks the short distance from their house to the next one over, where the Bakugou family lives. Once a week, he gathers the vegetables he's managed to harvest and carries them on the long journey across the ice to the nearest trading post.

The vegetables harvested from his tiny, indoor garden patch aren't much, but in the After any sort of greenery is in high demand, so they get by.

They get by.

* * *

Izuku is lost.

By the time he'd made it to the trading post it had begun to snow, delicate flakes floating from the thick white clouds above. The man at the post had concernedly asked him if he'd like to stay the night, but Izuku hadn't wanted to worry his mother so instead he began the long trudge back home.

It was a mistake. The light snowfall had quickly turned into a blizzard and now Izuku is lost.

He can't move very quickly for fear of falling into a crevasse. He shuffles his feet in front of him, unable to see or hear anything past the cascading sheets of snow. The wind howls in his ears, biting at any exposed skin and making it burn and sting.

He'd stay put and wait it out, but if he does that he might freeze. So instead he keeps moving, painfully slowly, not knowing where he is or where he's going.

Izuku blinks away a tear before it can freeze to his lashes, the goggles in front of his eyes doing little to keep out the chill. He shivers and pulls his arms tighter around himself.

He'd lost the sled and everything on it ages ago. It had been a difficult choice, but it was such a dead-weight and walking was hard enough already. The next trip to the trading post he'll have to put his vegetables in a backpack, he supposes, which means they'll be squashed and therefore worth less. They'll probably go hungry this week, especially since he'll need to trade for a new sled, and he can't grow the vegetables fast enough to make two trips a week worth it.

Well. They'll go hungry if he makes it out of this alive. If he doesn't, he certainly won't be hungry anymore. He wonders what will happen to his mother when they don't have his Kosei to keep the plants growing. Maybe she'll go live with Kacchan's family.

 _No. I'm going to make it. I can do this._

Izuku shakes his head, snowflakes flurrying off of the hood of his parka. With renewed determination, he presses through the storm.

* * *

By the time he finds shelter, Izuku is sure he's going to die.

He's freezing. He stopped shivering a while ago, even though he's no less colder than he was before, and he's worried, because isn't that a sign of hypothermia? In addition to that troubling thought, his fingers and toes are like ice even through the layers and layers of socks and gloves, and he'll be amazed if he makes it out of this without at least some frostbite.

Anaesthetics are extraordinarily rare. He's not about to make his mother go hungry for the next year just because he might have to lose a few toes. It's his own damn fault for not staying at the trading post with the snow falling outside.

Izuku is so deep in his thoughts that he almost doesn't notice the castle until it's right in front of him.

And it's definitely a castle. Tall, dark-stoned walls reach towards the sky, spires at each corner looming above like the fangs of some great beast. Izuku cranes his neck back and gapes, almost losing his balance in the snow.

Maybe he won't die after all.

* * *

Shouto is sitting by the hearth, watching the fire. It's hypnotizing, the coils of flame dancing around each other and sending out sparks like shooting stars. Fire could be beautiful, Shouto thinks, if only he hadn't seen it's dark side.

Miku croaks softly, ruffling her feathers. Shouto's gaze leaves the fire to watch her settle down again, white wings bundled against her sides. He'd removed the splint from the bent one earlier today, and he was pleased to find it looked alright and didn't seem to be paining her. He doesn't know if she'll be able to fly again, though, and he isn't sure if he should be happy or sad about that. Happy, because he won't lose his only companion, or sad because it would mean she'll be confined to the Castle, just as he is.

One beady eye opens and Shouto finds himself frozen, trapped in Miku's gaze. The raichō watches him without blinking, both of them totally still. Then she closes her eyes and tucks her head beneath her wing and Shouto can breath again.

"How pathetic am I," he says to no one. "That my only friend is a bird."

That's when he hears the noise.

It's not an unfamiliar noise, though it is fairly uncommon. A grating, echoing sound, it signifies the opening of the gate. In this Castle, with its long, echoing corridors, that sound can be heard throughout.

Shouto frowns. None of his attendants are supposed to be around today, and Fuyumi only just visited last week. She's not due again for another month, which means…

Endeavor.

Shouto swallows, throat suddenly dry. He closes his eyes and curls his hands into fists, fingernails digging into the skin of his palms. The temperature of the room drops ten degrees and Shouto can feel his heart rate speed up.

Miku fidgets uncomfortably, slipping off of her cushion and waddling towards the fire. Shouto barely notices.

The Lord of Endeavor has always been in his life and he's always been cruel, so Shouto really should be used to this by now. Yet even knowing that, he can't stop the clamminess of his palms or the shaking of fingers, can't stop the sinking feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach.

A visit from his father is never a good thing, even if Shouto longs for company. Endeavor is not company. At least not the good kind.

Part of Shouto, the part that is still a child, wants to run and hide. Part of him wishes to stay here by the fire and hope the slamming of the doors is his imagination. The reasonable part of him knows he should go greet his father, but he can't bring himself to do it. His legs are glued to the floor, and he fears if he tries to stand he will fall over.

He stays where he is. Waiting. Listening.

Footsteps in the hall. Quiet, padding, the echoes faint. A voice, calling out.

The footsteps are too light to be Endeavor's. The voice is too high-pitched, too young, too unsure, to belong to his father.

Shouto can breathe again, but now he's confused. A frown spreads across his face and he slowly stands, still shaky from left-over adrenaline. Who…?

"Hello?" echoes the voice. "Is there anyone here?"

In a moment Shouto has crossed the room and started into the corridors, silent feet padding towards the main entrance, where the voice originates. Rounding a corner, Shouto watches from the shadows as flurries of fresh snow dance through the air around a small, unfamiliar figure, bundled up in so many layers that Shouto's amazed the person is still standing.

Although 'standing' is a relative term. The stranger looks unsteady on their feet, like any moment they'll keel over. The voice is hoarse and wobbly with the shivers that are obviously racking the form despite how bundled up they are.

Shouto makes a split second decision and steps out of the shadows even as the door slams shut, cutting of the snowfall and the light from outside.

Silence. Shouto stares into bright green eyes, shining in the reflective light of the candles.

"Who are you?"

"Oh, hello!"

They speak at the same time, and Shouto finds himself suddenly unsteady. What is the etiquette? Who gets to speak first?

The figure shuffles their feet and pulls the hood back, shaking piled snow onto the floor. The face that's revealed is young and round, delicate freckles sprinkling the cheeks of what appears to be a boy around Shouto's own age.

"Uh, sorry," chuckles the boy, a blush spreading across his cheeks. "I got lost in the storm and I needed shelter so I thought I'd...is it alright if I stay here until the snow stops?"

Shouto blinks. It's been years since he's met someone new. It'd be nice, he thinks, to have another person stay in the Castle. It might make the nights less lonely.

Endeavor will be angry when he finds out.

 _If_ he finds out. Just like he'll be angry _if_ he finds out that Shouto sometimes leaves the Castle to walk the glaciers.

Mutely, he nods.

A smile breaks out on the boy's face, and it's like the sun appearing from behind a cloud. For a moment, Shouto forgets how to breathe.

He turns away and starts walking, confused as to why his face is suddenly so warm. The boy's footsteps patter behind him as he hurries to follow.

"My name's Izuku," offers the boy brightly. "What's yours?"

"Shouto."

"Nice to meet you Shouto!" A pause. Then, "Do you live here?"

Shouto nods sharply, not looking at the boy. He hopes Izuku won't question him further. He doesn't really feel up to explaining his circumstances.

It occurs to him that if this boy knew who he was, he'd probably turn the other way and start running. Even with the blizzard outside, Shouto knows he's not someone who deserves company. The apocalypse is his fault, after all.

Izuku, Shouto soon realizes, is very talkative.

"Wow, this place is amazing. Who built this? I wonder if it was purely engineering or if they used their Kosei? These certainly look like bricks, so probably they weren't built directly by an earth elementalist. Maybe they formed the bricks and then lifted them one by one? That's an old style. I wonder when this was built? Do you know how old it is? How long have you been living here? Did nobles live here in the Before? Why was it built so far away from anything else? Is there a whole city underneath the ice?"

Izuku goes on and on and on, descending into vague mumbling that Shouto can barely understand. He never once replies, but Izuku doesn't seem to mind, perfectly content to chatter away with no response. For his part, Shouto enjoys the sound of another voice filling the silence.

They stop in the sitting room where Shouto had left Miku and the still-burning fire. Izuku stops talking as they enter, eyes widening at the sight of the hearth. He sends Shouto a questioning glance, and Shouto nods slightly, gesturing for the other boy to move towards the fire.

Izuku barely waits for him to finish his nod before racing to the fire, plopping down in the very spot Shouto had been sitting in earlier. Miku stirs, indignantly shuffling to the side and away from the stranger in her home. She crosses the room and Shouto lowers a hand for her to crawl onto before using his arm as a bridge to his shoulder.

By the hearth, Izuku has pulled four layers of gloves off of his hands and extended his fingers towards the fire, sighing happily. The room descends into comfortable silence.

Shouto crosses the room and lowers himself onto the worn couch, cushions sinking below his weight. He finds himself watching Izuku, fascinated by the softness of the boy's features.

Everything about Izuku is open, from his words to his expressions. He radiates innocence and gentleness, freckles mapping out the obvious kindness of his soul. Dark green curls frame his face, dripping melted ice and snow onto his shoulders. As he warms, he begins to shed soaking layer after soaking layer until he sits on the floor in nothing but a faded pair of black slacks and a mint green sweater.

Looking at him, Shouto knows that even if Izuku has known pain, he has never been hurt. Not like Shouto has. That's rare, he thinks, at the end of the world. Everyone's lost someone, he knows from Fuyumi's stories of the remaining vestiges of civilization.

But Izuku has been loved. It's obvious in the warm glint of his eyes, the trusting tone of his voice.

It would be nice, Shouto thinks, to befriend someone who has no sharp edges.

* * *

Izuku is curious.

Shouto is a strange boy in a strange castle, with mismatched eyes and a large, painful-looking scar. He doesn't talk much and he appears to be completely alone in the vast emptiness of this castle.

He wants to ask. Oh, how he wants to ask. But he's young, not stupid, so he keeps his mouth shut.

Well. He's not exactly silent, but the questions he asks are trivial. Where did the bird come from? What is its name? How big is the castle? None of the questions he really wants to ask, none of the questions he somehow knows Shouto won't want to answer.

Even with all his questions, Izuku knows without asking that this strange, silent boy is lonely. He can feel his gaze fixed on him as he dries himself by the fire, the hairs on his neck prickling slightly. He pretends not to notice, though, afraid to scare Shouto off.

"Where'd you get that bird?"

Shouto shifts behind him, as if shaking himself from thought. "She flew through one of the windows. Her wing was broken so I did my best to fix it but…" he trails off, not needing to finish the sentence.

Izuku turns. "Can I see?" he asks softly, stretching out his hand. Shouto hesitates before sliding down to sit cross-legged on the floor beside him. Gently, the strange boy coaxes the bird from his shoulder and into Izuku's waiting hands.

Their fingers brush. For a moment, time stops, and Izuku is caught up in the quiet intensity of Shouto's gaze.

The raichō croaks impatiently and the moment shatters. Izuku looks downward quickly, hoping the dancing shadows cast by the fire will hide his blush. Trying to ignore the thick lump in his throat, Izuku tenderly guides the raichō's wing away from its side, inspecting the bend and feeling the flow of energy around the poorly healed bone.

"I can fix this," he mutters softly, and lifts a finger to do so before pausing. He glances up at Shouto, questioning. "Do you want me to try?"

Shouto frowns, but nods. Even as he stirs the familiar warmth in his fingers and molds the bone back into shape, Izuku thinks that maybe revealing his power is a bad idea.

In the Before, the percentage of people with Kosei and people without was forty to sixty. In the after, that percentage became eighty to twenty. With the many deaths caused by the coming of the Great Ice, and the subsequent harsh conditions, the world's population fell dramatically and the possession of a Kosei severely increased the chances of survival.

The most common Kosei are the elementals: the traditional water, earth, fire, and air, and the slightly less common wood and metal, followed by light and shadow. It is rare, but not unheard of, for people to possess dual elements, and even more rare for the elements to be opposites, such as earth and air or water and fire.

The rarest Kosei are life and death.

There is only one recorded individual in possession of a life Kosei. Izuku knows differently.

There is currently no record of any living individual being in possession of a death Kosei.

Izuku's Kosei is life. He is one of two with this power, and he knows full well what people would do to control it, to control _him_ , especially in this world of ice and death. So he keeps it hidden, the knowledge limited only to his mother and the Bakugou family.

And even they don't know the whole truth.

So really, revealing his Kosei to this strange boy he's only just met is a terrible idea, but something about Shouto puts him at ease. Maybe it's his quietness, or his softness, or the loneliness in his eyes, but Izuku knows somehow that he can trust Shouto.

That is why, sitting in a castle in the middle of a blizzard, Izuku uses his Kosei to heal a bird's wing.

* * *

Izuku leaves when the blizzard ends, with a glance at the stars and a beaming smile. He promises two things: one, that he will be able to find his way home now that the sky has cleared, and two, that he will use the same sky to find his way back.

He promises the latter without Shouto having to ask. "Well, I fixed your raichō," he'd said with a laugh and a blush on his cheeks. "Now that it can fly away I guess you'll need company. It's only fair."

Shouto had said nothing, even though he'd wanted to.

"Un-unless you don't want me to. Which is fine. I'll—"

"Come back," Shouto had whispered. "Please."

Izuku had smiled again, lighting up the darkness and warming Shouto's ice-locked heart. "Alright," he'd said.

He'd left with a smile and a wave and a promise to return, and Shouto had watched him leave from the shadows of the doorway. He'd watched and watched until Izuku had disappeared over the horizon and then he'd watched some more, unable to explain the warmth in his chest or the longing in his lungs.

Izuku has a life Kosei. If Endeavor ever caught him and found out, he'd use Izuku the way he'd always used Shouto. As a weapon, or a tool. Shouto can't let that happen. He knows he should have told Izuku to stay away, for his own sake, because Shouto is dangerous and Endeavor is worse, but somehow he couldn't.

Shouto doesn't allow himself to want things, usually. He knows it's pointless and will only lead to disappointment. And yet, somehow, without him realizing it, he's come to want something.

He wants, with every fiber of his being, to see Izuku's smile again.

* * *

 **Raichō is the Japanese word for rock ptarmigan. Kosei is the Japanese word for Quirk. (If this story were written in Japanese, the latter word would appear in English.)**

 **Both of these facts were taken from Wikipedia, so don't quote me on them.**

 **Anyway, I hope you enjoyed. I sure enjoyed writing it. I feel the need to ask you all to please not steal the concept idea from me. Obviously anything recognizable from BNHA is not mine, but the concept of an icy apocalypse is something I came up with on my own and may reuse for an original work in the future. Thanks!**

 **Drop me a comment with your thoughts. I cannot tell you how much I love receiving comments. Plus, they fuel me towards the next chapter quicker so it's a win-win situation.**


	2. touch

**Endeavor is an asshole. Because of this, there's some abuse going on in this chapter, so if this is going to be harmful for you, please be careful.**

 **Bakugo is also an asshole, but in a completely different way. Also, he swears a lot. You have been warned.**

 **This chapter is hella angsty please enjoy.**

* * *

The bond between mother and child is unparalleled. A mother will stand by and protect her child until the end.

Shouto hasn't seen his mother in years. Not since the day his face burned and the world froze.

He'd been confused at the time, and frightened. The pain had been unimaginable. His father had been shouting, his mother crying and he'd lost control.

Ice had spread across the kitchen floor and crept up the pale blue walls, painted the same color as both his mother's eyes and one of his. The shouting had only gotten louder, except this time it was directed at him. Stop it, Shouto! his father had ordered, but Shouto couldn't, no matter how he wanted to or how he tried.

Then his father's hand had connected with the side of his face, the side already on fire, and everything had shattered.

His heart ripped open in his chest, power flowing through his veins and out through his fingertips. Everything was wrong, everything hurt, and all of Shouto's anguish poured out as ice and spread and spread.

Shouto is a dual-elemental, prince of the North Kingdom. He is the crown jewel of Castle Endeavor, endowed with all the power of two strong bloodlines.

And, at the time, he was a frightened little boy who had suffered more than any little boy should ever suffer.

Shouto's world was crashing down around him, so he brought the rest of the world with it.

* * *

His mother is crying when Izuku gets home.

It's the early afternoon. The snow hadn't stopped until this morning so Izuku had been forced to stay the night at Shouto's castle, despite the gnawing feeling of guilt from not being able to send word to his mother that he's still alive. In the Before, he could have called her, but this is the After where amenities like wifi and cell lines are a thing of the past. Even electricity is rare, with not enough people to run the companies and most of the power plants and electrical lines destroyed by the ice.

He'd left yesterday when the sky was gray. A blizzard had come and he hadn't returned.

Of course she'd think the worst. In the After, the worst is often the only possibility.

He opens the door with some difficulty, built up snow creating a barricade. When he manages it, though, he peers inside and his heart shatters.

His mother is sitting on his bed. She's crying.

"Mom," he starts, but he's cut off when she flings herself across the room and throws her arms around him. Izuku hugs her back, leaning his head down to nestle into her shoulder. Last night's fear and hopelessness come crashing down and soon he's crying with her, both of them clinging so tightly to each other that it's as if they'll never let go.

"I'm so sorry," Izuku apologizes, somewhat hysterically. "I'm sorry I took so long and I'm sorry that I made you worry and I'm sorry that I lost the sled and all of this week's supplies and—"

His mother pulls back abruptly, moving her hands to cup his face. Izuku is taller than her, now, so she's looking up at him with large, watery eyes the same shade of green as his own. "Shh," she chides, breath hiccuping. "Shh, my beautiful boy. You have nothing to apologize for."

"But I made you cry—"

She shakes her head adamantly, standing on tiptoe to kiss his nose. One of her hands finds the nape of his neck and she pulls him down so that his forehead is resting against hers.

"It doesn't matter," she whispers. "All that matters is you're safe now."

"Mom—"

"You're safe now."

* * *

"Where were you last night?"

The question is less of a question and more of a demand. Izuku straightens from where he's shoveling snow and turns to look towards the familiar voice.

Kacchan is standing a few feet away, arms crossed in front of his chest and an angry glare on his face. He looks upset. Izuku's not sure why he'd be upset, since Kacchan doesn't really seem to care much about him, but he'd given up on trying to understand his non-friend ages ago.

"I got trapped out in the blizzard."

"Yeah, I know, stupid . Your mom came crying to us asking if you'd been by, and then my mom got all worried and almost made me go out looking for you."

"S-so, why are you asking?"

Kacchan levels a look on him that means he thinks it should be obvious what he's trying to say, even though there's nothing obvious about Kacchan ever. "Where were you really ?"

"I...what?"

"Fuck, Deku," growls Kacchan. "I'm not stupid. If you hadn't found shelter, you would be dead. And you lost your sled, apparently , which means you didn't stay at the trading post. So where did you go?"

His pitch and volume increases as the sentence goes on, until he's using a tone that for most people would be yelling but for Kacchan is closer to a slightly frustrated upturn of the voice. His arms aren't crossed anymore, instead hanging by his sides with his hands balled into fists.

"I...nowhere. I found a cave."

Kacchan takes a step closer, a threat in his eyes. "I can tell you're lying, Deku! A cave isn't enough shelter! If you'd stayed in a cave overnight, you'd be fucking dead right now, not shoveling snow like nothing happened! Dumbass."

Izuku flinches away. It would be easy to tell Kacchan the truth, but that would mean giving away Shouto's location and somehow he feels that that would not have a good outcome. And besides, the castle and its lonely inhabitant is something that only Izuku knows about, something exclusive to him, something private that he doesn't have to share with Kacchan at all. Something like that is rare, seeing as they've known each other for as long as either can remember and their families are the only people within a ten mile radius.

"Well?! Spit it out, Deku!?"

"I-I have to go," says Izuku, shying away from Kacchan who by now has gotten very close to him, fists still clenched and red eyes still bright with fury. It's a risky move, running away from Kacchan, but any moment now he might start shooting off sparks and Izuku can't afford to give anything away, so he grabs his shovel from the ground and sprints toward the house.

"You're not getting out of this, Deku!" yells Kacchan, still angry but not following him, thankfully. "I still want an answer!"

Izuku sets the shovel by the door and runs inside, closing the heavy slab of wood behind him.

* * *

The door slams, echoes chasing each other down the hallway. Shouto straightens and stumbles to his feet as fast as he can.

Izuku's back. He hadn't dared to hope, but he'd wanted so badly to see those green eyes again.

Heart pounding excitedly and a rare smile spreading across his face, Shouto races through the corridors. His breathing is loud in his ears and his thoughts are buzzing so excitedly that, unfortunately, he doesn't hear the heaviness of the footfall.

He skids around the corner and opens his mouth to call Izuku's name, but the word dies on his tongue.

The man standing before him is not Izuku.

Endeavor.

"Shouto," says Endeavor, a curious quirk to his flaming eyebrows. Shouto's heart drops like a stone and he has to fight to keep the frost from spreading across the floor.

"Father," he replies. He's not proud of the waver in his voice and mentally curses himself for daring to hope. Endeavor is a physical reminder of why he cannot allow himself happiness; any joy in his life will be crushed, followed only by pain and disappointment.

"Have you been keeping up with your training regiment?"

That's all. No 'how have you been?' No 'it's good to see you'. Not even a comment on last night's blizzard.

Just 'have you been training?' Shouto should've expected it. This is Endeavor after all.

His father is still waiting for an answer, so he nods briefly, not trusting himself to speak.

"Good." Endeavor steps forward and places a heavy hand on his shoulder, barely extinguishing the flames so that instead of burning him they only tickle with uncomfortable warmth on his right side.

Shouto tries to stop himself from flinching, but he's not entirely successful.

Endeavor levers his fiery gaze on Shouto, demeanor cold despite the flames that rage across his skin. "Let's go," he says, and strides forward, Shouto unwillingly in tow.

They're going to the training hall, of course, where Endeavor will force him to train until he cannot stand, and then he will make him train some more. Most likely, a majority of it will be dueling, as always.

His father has said that they will continue to train in this matter until the day Shouto can best him in a fight.

Shouto has a sinking feeling that when that day comes he may kill his father.

It's not something he's seriously considered, partly because there's no way he'd manage it and partly because, for all that he's already a murderer, he doesn't want to kill someone in cold blood. He hates his father, yes, but enough to kill him?

He doesn't know, and that's the scariest part. Because one day he will stand above his father on the training ground and he may lose control.

Shouto never wants that day to come.

But he is a pawn to Endeavor's whim, a puppet and not a son. He is an object to Endeavor's cruelty, and the worst part is that with all he's done, he probably deserves it.

He shuts the last images of Izuku's smile out of his mind and resigns himself to a day of painful training.

* * *

Izuku doesn't visits that day, thank god. The sun has long set by the time Endeavor finally leaves, disappointment in his face and voice.

"Do better," is all he says, and then leaves without a farewell.

Shouto stays where he is, collapsed on the floor of the training hall. It's open to the sky, so he can see the stars high above as he swallows back tears and tries to push away the pain.

He should get up and go inside. He hasn't eaten all day, so he's starving, and if he stays out here he might freeze, regardless of his Kosei. Even now, lazy flakes of snow fall down to kiss his skin, momentary bursts of cold that quickly melt into quick-drying tears.

He should go inside, but he can't seem to summon the energy to stand. Everything hurts. His muscles ache and his skin stings from hundreds of minor cuts and burns. He can feel bruises forming on his shoulder and cheek, places where he'd been too slow to dodge Endeavor's onslaught.

His mouth is dry. Shouto pulls his lips apart and tastes a snowflake.

He wonders what Izuku's life is like, if the boy has anyone like Endeavor. He thinks not, because of the happy glint in his green eyes. He thinks, knows, that unlike him, Izuku has only ever known love.

Shouto tries not to, but he envies that. What must it be like, to not live in fear? To not be alone?

He doesn't know how long he lies there, but the moon is high above and the snow is starting to pile up on the rooftop by the time he manages to stand, swaying on his feet. Slowly, painfully, he walks inside and shoves a protein bar in his mouth before collapsing onto the couch.

He falls asleep almost immediately, his aching limbs submitting easily into blissful darkness.

* * *

Izuku visits three days later, when most of the wounds have healed. He doesn't ask about the bruise under Shouto's eye, and Shouto doesn't offer an explanation.

Two weeks pass. Izuku visits as often as he can, and Shouto lives in waiting for those times, his life a clothing line strung together on hooks that are Izuku's company.

Izuku talks about home on those visits. He talks about his mother and a boy named Kacchan. He talks about his life in the Before, and his life now, and he is endlessly positive. Shouto never says much himself, but he listens and listens and listens, drinking up Izuku's words like they're water and he's lost in the desert.

Two weeks pass of Izuku's visits, and then Endeavor returns.

* * *

"I'm disappointed, Shouto," says his father. "If you won't use your fire then you will always be a failure and the ice will always be here."

"I don't want to be like you," replies Shouto, defiant.

"Then the world will still be at its end and it will still be your fault."

Endeavor leaves in a swirl of flame and Shouto collapses in the sitting room once again.

* * *

He awakens to the sound of Izuku's voice in the hallways.

"Shouto?" Footsteps, growing closer. "Shouto, are you here?"

Part of Shouto wants to see Izuku with a desperate sort of longing, a sort of need to see those kind eyes and hear that gentle voice. The rest of him wishes that Izuku would go away. He doesn't want the boy to see him like this.

"Shouto?" Izuku's at the doorway now, peering in. Shouto squeezes his eyes shut but he can still hear Izuku's boots pad around the couch. There's a small gasp, and then Izuku is kneeling by his side.

Shouto opens his eyes and finds himself looking directly into Izuku's worried face.

"Oh, no, Shouto, are you alright? What happened?"

He doesn't reply, instead bowing his head so that his hair falls into his face. Izuku's seen him now, like this, and Shouto doesn't know how to deal with that, how to explain, since Izuku surely wants to know. He wants to know, and he should know, but Shouto doesn't want to tell him.

Doesn't know how to tell him.

"Shouto, please answer me. How badly are you hurt?"

Shouto shakes his head. "'S fine," he mumbles, still not meeting Izuku's eyes.

"No, it's not." Izuku's fingers dance near his shoulders, and then his face, not quite touching. "I can heal you—"

"No!"

Izuku reels back, obvious confusion on his features. "What? Shouto, you're hurt."

"I said no. I-I don't need your help."

"Shouto, I want to help you. Please let me."

Sudden fear clenches Shouto's heart and he lurches upwards, grabbing for Izuku's shoulders. "You have to go," he orders, breathless. "Please, you have to go."

"W-what? Shouto—"

"It's not safe. You're—you're not safe. You shouldn't come back here. You should forget you ever met me, please just...just go." Shouto's not proud of the begging tone that's seeped its way into his voice, nor is he proud of the lump in his throat or the shakiness of his breath. He doesn't really want Izuku to leave. He wants him to stay, and keep smiling, and keep being kind and trying to help, but if Izuku is here then Endeavor will, inevitably, find him, and then he will hurt him the way he's hurt Shouto and he can't—

Izuku's hands on his face stop his frantic thoughts. He flinches at the contact, but Izuku is steady. His green eyes find Shouto's, startling in their intensity and suddenly filled with a steel that Shouto hasn't seen before. His fingers are warm against Shouto's skin, glowing with power, but Shouto is too trapped in his gaze to notice the flow of energy from his Kosei, healing Shouto's wounds.

"I'm staying," says Izuku firmly.

Shouto nods and looks away.

* * *

Izuku doesn't know what happened to Shouto but it makes a sort of awful sense.

Shouto's clearly been abused. And Izuku should've realized it sooner, what with Shouto's tendency towards quiet, his frequent bruises and his apparent aversion to touch. Izuku's noticed the way he flinches away when their hands brush, the distance in his eyes when he's lost in thought.

Izuku wants to help.

He needs to help.

But he knows that pushing Shouto will get him nowhere, so instead he stays silently by Shouto's side, giving him support and making sure he knows that Izuku isn't going anywhere. Shouto is a boy who has not been given much love, which is one of the saddest things Izuku can think of, so he promises himself to remedy this by giving the lonely boy as much affection as he can give.

It's warm in the sitting room, despite the chill of the outside. The fire crackles happily in its hearth, sending patterns of light and shadow to dance across the walls. They alight on Shouto's face, illuminating it and hiding it in equal measure, and Izuku can't help but think that he is beautiful.

His eyes are closed, having fallen asleep about a half hour ago by Izuku's estimation. He looks much better after the healing, but Izuku knows his power can only heal the physical. He can do nothing for the mental scars, the aching loneliness in Shouto's voice when he says Izuku's name.

Not sure what exactly it is that moves him to do so, Izuku reaches out and brushes a few loose strands of hair from Shouto's face. It's soft, his hair, and with it brushed back, he looks peaceful.

The scar over his left eye stands out on his pale skin, red and angry-looking. It does nothing to diminish Shouto's beauty, but Izuku wonders what had happened to him that such a scar had formed. He imagines how painful it must have been, to have the side of the face so horribly scarred, and he longs to draw all the pain out of Shouto's life.

"Who are you?" he wonders aloud, watching the gentle rise and fall of the boy's chest.

Of course he gets no reply. Izuku sighs and lets his hand fall back by his side, then moves to lean against the couch. He lays his head down on the cushion and closes his eyes.

Soon, he too is asleep.

* * *

Their relationship changes after that. Shouto has revealed a side of him that Izuku hasn't seen before, and Izuku's accepted it. The next several times they meet it is with a sort of comfortable familiarity, a level of understanding that they had previously been missing. But for better or for worse, they are bonded now. Izuku will not stop visiting, and Shouto will never again ask him to.

Then, one day, with a sky that's gray and ominous, Izuku's and Endeavor's visits coincide.

* * *

"—so then Kacchan's so mad that there's actual smoke coming out of his ears, and I'm starting to get worried, but his mom appears out of nowhere and—I swear this happened—she just grabs him by his hair and he looks completely terrified and then-"

The door slams, echoing through the hallways.

The smile dies on Shouto's face, quickly replaced by sheer panic. He turns to Izuku with wide eyes, and suddenly Izuku knows, without having to be told, that the visitor is the one who hurt him.

"Who—"

"Izuku, you have to hide," begs Shouto desperately, grabbing his arm and hurrying towards a nearby closet. He shoves him in roughly and slams the door behind him. Izuku catches one last glimpse of his friend's pale face before all light is cut off save that which seeps in through the cracks around the doorframe.

Heavy footsteps plod into the room. Izuku holds his breath, listening intently.

"Shouto."

The voice is gruff, indifferent. A man's voice, Izuku thinks, probably belonging to someone of considerable size based on the resonance and pitch. It's coming from above, so he's likely tall, and in Izuku's mind he sees a huge, faceless figure towering over Shouto.

His fingers curl into a fist and he has to restrain himself from bursting out of the closet in his friend's defense.

"Father," greets Shouto, voice flat and emotionless, and Izuku's blood runs cold.

Shouto's father.

The man who hurt him, who isolated him in this tower and caused the fear in his eyes, is his own father.

Izuku feels sick.

"Come on," orders the man, boots pounding the floor as he walks away. Shouto's footsteps follow him, and soon the room is empty.

Izuku sinks to the floor, suddenly too horrified to stand.

Shouto's father.

He wants to do something. He wants to help. But he can't. If Shouto's father finds out about him, it's likely he'll never get to see his friend again, and that would only harm Shouto more than it would help him.

Yet despite this, Izuku can't forget the look in Shouto's eyes the night he found him broken on the couch.

I'll save you, Shouto, Izuku vows silently. One way or another, I promise I will.

* * *

That night, Shouto stumbles back into the room and opens his closet. Izuku looks up into Shouto's pale, empty face, and immediately surges to his feet.

He opens his arms and Shouto falls into him. His body shakes and Izuku says nothing.

Izuku has always been loved. Sure, Kacchan has been cruel in the past, but never like this. He has never been hurt the way Shouto has, and it breaks him to see his friend this way.

Shouto's crying, he realizes with a start, and then he's crying too. The pair stand in silence, clinging to each other and sobbing.

Outside, the snow starts to fall.

* * *

 **Don't expect all the chapter to come out so quickly. Some will, of course, but there might be times where whole weeks pass before there's an update. I'm not one of those authors who posts once a week. I post whenever the chapter is ready, and whenever that happens is anyone's guess.**

 **As always, thanks for reading! Drop me a comment, if you would, I love getting feedback.**


	3. interlude

**I felt bad about all the angst last chapter so as a result I wrote this and it is SAPPY AS HELL.**

 **The formatting is a little bit different for this chapter, something that may or may not reappear in the future. I kinda like it, and I like how it moves the story, but it's really just guesswork what I'll do, even for me.**

 **Also, I am on the "boys are allowed to be soft and sensitive and physically affectionate and they are also allowed to cry" team so you'll see some of that. I know I marked this as slow burn, and I'm sticking by that, because THEY'RE ALLOWED TO CUDDLE, GODDAMNIT.**

 **(Warning: I edited this at 12:30 am. Again. All mistakes are my own and I apologize.)**

* * *

 **i. snow**

"It's snowing," says Izuku.

Shouto glances down at him, the look in his eyes clearly stating that he thinks Izuku's lost it. "It's always snowing."

"Yeah, but this is nice snow, instead of a blizzard."

Shouto frowns. He seems confused. "I guess…"

There is quiet. Then:

"Have you ever built a snowman, Shouto?"

* * *

 **ii. warmth**

Shouto's hair tickles Izuku's arm.

It is warm, here by the fire. It is warm, here in Izuku's heart.

Izuku watches Shouto breathe and is hit by the sudden, powerful urge to press his lips to the skin of Shouto's face.

He doesn't.

(Not yet.)

Yet he somehow knows Shouto's face would be warm, too.

* * *

 **iii. beach**

"I miss the beach," says Izuku one day. They are sitting on one of the castle's turrets, the sky a rare shade of clear blue. They can see for miles, up here. Miles and miles of barren, empty snow.

"The beach?" echoes Shouto.

"Yes. I used to go with my mom. When I was little. Before the…before."

Shouto nods.

Before.

"Did you ever go to the beach?" asks Izuku.

"Once."

"Did you like it?"

Shouto ponders that, remembering. A cool wind brushes his hair into his eyes.

"I liked the sand. It was warm. And people were laughing. I liked that too."

Izuku nods. He's smiling, but he looks sad. "I wish people would laugh more. Like they did back then."

"They would," says Shouto. "If they knew you."

* * *

 **iv. run**

"Why don't you run away?" asks Izuku one day, when the sun has fallen just past its peak and icicles drip drop from the eaves outside the window.

Shouto stirs and is surprised.

"I can't," he says, like it is obvious. It is obvious. He can't. Izuku should see that.

"Why not?"

"I just...can't."

"You could."

Shouto says nothing and stares into the fire. He can't. Leaving would be...he can't. He can't. He can't.

(He could.)

* * *

 **v. questions**

Izuku does most of the talking.

He doesn't mind; he loves to talk.

But sometimes he wish Shouto would talk more. About himself, about his feelings, his desires, his life in the Before and in the After.

"Let's play a game," says Izuku one day by the fire.

"A game?"

"Twenty questions."

Shouto looks confused, so Izuku explains it.

"I'll ask you first. What's your favorite color?"

There's a pause while Shouto thinks. Then, hesitant, "Green."

"Now it's your turn. Ask me anything."

"What's yours?"

"What?"

"Your favorite color."

A smile.

"Red."

* * *

 **vi. answers**

Later:

"If you could do anything or be anyone, what would you do and who would you be?"

Izuku beams excitedly. "I would be a hero," he says. "I would help people in need."

Shouto nods. It fits.

"How about you?"

He turns his eyes to the open window and the sky outside.

"I would be a bird," he says. "So that I could fly away."

* * *

 **vii. stay**

"Why do you stay?" asks Izuku.

Shouto freezes.

He says nothing.

"Shouto?"

"Because I have to."

"Why?"

A sigh. Shouto turns away.

"Punishment."

Izuku startles, watching him with eyes wide. "For what?"

Shouto watches the snow outside.

"Shouto, for what?"

"For everything."

* * *

 **viii. mothers**

"You should meet my mother," says Izuku. "She'd like you."

Shouto is surprised. He turns mismatched eyes on Izuku and raises one eyebrow.

"She would?"

Izuku grins and nods his head emphatically. He swings his feet against the castle wall he's perched on. "Of course!"

Silence. A comfortable silence.

"What's your mother like?"

The silence turns uncomfortable, charged with tension.

"My mother," murmurs Shouto. "Is beautiful."

He leaves it at that.

* * *

 **ix. mothers, continued.**

"I remember my mother crying," says Shouto, unprompted.

Izuku is startled, but he says nothing. Shouto doesn't talk much, but when he does, Izuku knows it's important that he listens.

"'Your left side is is unsightly,' is what she said." He stops, pain flashing through his eyes, and his fingers move to brush his scar.

Izuku stiffens.

Shouto looks away, his expression unreadable.

"Endeavor broke my mother," he says. "He shattered her mind and her heart and she lost control. It wasn't her fault."

His final statement sounds like a question and also sounds like something else entirely. He _is_ talking about fault; he _isn't_ talking about his mother, not anymore.

Izuku hugs him. Hard.

"It's not your fault, Shouto," he promises. "Nothing is your fault."

Something wet lands against Izuku's neck.

Izuku pulls back and guides Shouto's face to look at him. He waits until their gazes lock before wiping a tear from Shouto's cheek. From the left side. From the scar.

"And all of you is beautiful," he says.

* * *

 **x. deserve**

 _Who are you, Izuku Midoriya?_ wonders Shouto when he watches Izuku smile.

 _Who are you, Izuku Midoriya?_ he thinks to himself as he watches the green-haired boy coax a flower through the snow.

 _Who are you, Izuku Midoriya?_ he cries in silence, when Izuku's hands are on his arms and at his sides, holding him, supporting him. _Who are you and why did you stay?_

"I don't deserve this," says Shouto when Izuku leans against him.

"You don't deserve what?"

"This. You." He pauses. "I don't deserve anything."

"Oh, Shouto," chides Izuku softly, smiling, sad. "Of course you do."

* * *

 **xi. strength**

 _Who are you, Shouto Todoroki?_ thinks Izuku as he watches the gentle, hidden kindness in Shouto's eyes. _Who are you and how have you not shattered? And how are you so sad?_

"You are so strong, Shouto."

Shouto stares. "What?"

"You are whole. And you are strong."

"I'm...I'm not…"

"You are," assures Izuku.

(Izuku is just a boy who plants seeds in the snow. Shouto is a lonely prince who saved a candle from a blizzard.)

 _How do I deserve you?_ wonders Izuku. _How do I deserve this?_

* * *

 **xii. heroes**

Shouto is strong. Shouto is beautiful.

(Izuku's heart pumps warmth through his veins. It pumps for a boy with red and white hair.)

"My favorite color is red," says Izuku.

(He thinks of strong men in red costume. He thinks of strong boys with red hair.)

(He thinks of heroes.)

* * *

 **xiii. oceans**

Izuku is kind. Izuku is beautiful.

(Shouto's ice thaws inside. It thaws for a boy with eyes like emeralds.)

"My favorite color is green," says Shouto.

(He thinks of the sea, raging and beautiful. He thinks of a boy, powerful and good.)

(He thinks of depthless kindness and hidden strength.)

* * *

 **As always, leave me a comment with your thoughts! Thanks for reading!**


	4. breaking point

**I love Inko, okay? I love her.**

 **This chapter sort of ran away from me in places. Damnit, Shouto, only you could get angsty about eating a raspberry.**

 **(I'm not joking. That's what happens. You'll see.)**

* * *

Dinner is quiet that night.

Nothing's particularly different about it, yet the air is somehow charged with some sort of tension.

Inko is watching her son.

He's been uncharacteristically quiet lately; chattering as normal and then clamming up with no warning, as if he has something to hide. It's worrisome. Inko wants him to be able to talk to her about anything and everything. Certainly he's allowed to have his secrets, but he should never feel like he has to keep anything hidden.

In addition to this, he's been out a lot lately. 'Going for a walk' he'll claim, and then disappear for hours. At first she'd been frantically worried, but she's beginning to grow used to it.

Which isn't good. Izuku's been wandering off, and wandering off in this world of the After is extraordinarily dangerous.

Inko puts down her spoon.

"Izuku," she says.

He looks up at her with round, green eyes, green like her own and so full of light. She'd always loved those eyes. From the moment he first opened them, the moment his gaze had first met hers, Inko had sworn to love and protect her son to the very end, no matter the cost.

"Where have you been going?"

Izuku looks down at his soup. His shoulders rise and fall as he heaves out a sigh.

"Mom…"

"Please, Izuku. You can tell me. I just need to know that you're safe."

He looks pained, conflict roiling behind his eyes. "I can't tell you."

A sharp pain, imagined and oh-so-real, appears next to Inko's heart. "Izuku—"

"Mom, I'm really, really sorry." Izuku's lip trembles, his face lined with guilt. "But it's not my secret to tell."

Inko closes her eyes and breathes. "Okay. Okay." Her eyelids peel back again and she reaches across the table to clasp Izuku's hand. "Just...can you promise me that you're safe?"

He squeezes her hand back. "Yes."

With a deep, painful sigh, Inko nods. It hurts her, to let Izuku go off in this dangerous world and not know where's he going. But he's not a baby, not anymore. He is a strong, brave, intelligent young man, and she has to trust that he can make the right choices for himself.

So even though it's hard, even though it hurts, Inko goes back to her soup and pretends she doesn't worry every time he leaves.

It's for the best.

It's for Izuku.

* * *

They're lying together on the couch, comfortable, warm. The fire dances before them, and pressed together they are silent and blissful, drinking in each other's presence.

"Why don't you leave?" asks Izuku.

Shouto sighs. "We've been over this. I can't."

"Why can't you?"

He glances downwards, towards Izuku's face. His friend's eyes are round and earnest, gleaming in the firelight. Shouto finds himself almost wanting to tell him the truth.

Almost.

"Izuku, you know why."

"No, I don't!" erupts Izuku, lurching forward to sit upright on the couch. He turns himself until he and Shouto are face to face, and Shouto is surprised by the heat in the boy's eyes. He's never seen Izuku angry before, at least not like this.

"Izuku—"

"Don't!" shouts Izuku. Shouto falls backwards, startled. Looking at least a little bit abashed, Izuku's next words are quieter. "Don't, Shouto, Don't try to tell me it's because you deserve it."

"But I—"

"I don't care what you've done."

 _That_ surprises Shouto. He stares at Izuku in shock. "How did you—"

"Look, I'm not stupid," says Izuku. "I know you're hiding something from me. If you don't want to tell me what it is, that's your decision, but don't treat me like I'm an idiot."

"Izuku, I don't think you're—"

"I know you don't." Izuku lays his hand against Shouto's face, palm brushing the warped skin of his scar. "You just can't keep on punishing yourself."

Shouto bites his lip. His eyes begin to sting and he swallows thickly. "I…"

"You don't deserve this, Shouto. _No one_ deserves this. I don't care what it is you're not telling me. I don't care about whatever it is you did that you feel you have to hide. The Shouto I know deserves to be free."

Shouto's blood runs warm and cold. He looks away, fighting tears.

"I don't deserve you," he chokes out. "I don't...Izuku, you're so good, if you knew what I've done you wouldn't—"

Izuku's hand finds the back of his neck and suddenly their foreheads are pressed together. Green eyes stare into mismatched ones, curly hair tickling Shouto's skin. They're so close that Shouto can feel the other boy's breath against his face.

Shouto stops breathing.

"It doesn't matter," says Izuku. "Shouto, it doesn't matter."

"It does," chokes out Shouto, his voice leaving his throat in a sob. "It does. You have no idea—"

"Then _tell me_ ," Izuku begs. "Please. I promise it won't change anything."

Shouto shakes his head, pulling away. "No," he whispers. "No. No, I can't, I-I just can't."

Izuku looks disappointed but he nods anyway. "Okay. Okay. That's fine. Whenever you're ready, Shouto, I'll listen. And I promise, I _promise_ that I won't leave."

The little boy inside Shouto, the little boy he'd thought had died long ago, cries out for his mother. Cries out for love, for compassion, for human company.

Shouto ducks his head and hot tears slide down his face, falling as droplets to rest, glimmering, on his folded legs.

He is a little boy who has been hurt, who has been neglected, abandoned, stranded.

He is desperately afraid of being alone again.

* * *

"You're a fool, Shouto!" bellows Endeavor. His fist swings towards Shouto's face and he dodges, but just barely.

He doesn't manage to dodge the second punch, which comes a second after and catches him in his stomach hard enough to wind him. He only just manages to stay standing.

"You refuse to use your power! Only an idiot does that. I didn't create you to be a fool! I didn't create you to be weak! _Try harder!"_

The next blow sends Shouto crashing to the ground. Endeavor stands above him, fires raging, chest heaving angrily.

"Do better," he orders, and then he is gone.

Shouto stares up at the cloudy sky.

 _You don't deserve this,_ says Izuku's voice, a traitor in the back of his mind. _No one deserves this._

* * *

Theoretically, Shouto could save the world.

He could do this because he is both ice and fire. He could do this because one hand pressed to the base of the First Glacier could thaw the world and end the apocalypse.

He could do this. Theoretically.

He can't.

He's tried, of course, but loosing his fire feels like losing control, and control...control is the most important thing, for Shouto.

(He'd lost control before, and the world had payed the price. He refuses to let it happen again.)

Because yes, fire would melt the ice, but it could mean the world going up in flames. That would be worse, that would break Shouto, and every time he tries to use the power locked in his veins, he sees Endeavor's smile and Endeavor's victory. Shouto's fire is his own defeat.

So Shouto locks it away. He locks it down with all his rage, all his passion, all his love. He locks it all away for the sake of control, because he can't afford to lose that again.

He's already brought the world to its knees. He refuses to end it.

Izuku though. Izuku is a loss of control in the most beautiful way. When he smiles the world falls away from Shouto's feet, and yet he can't tear his eyes away. Izuku is a whirlwind of life, a light in the darkness, a flame in a blizzard. He is an unknown variable, and around him, Shouto can't keep his heart from beating a song.

Izuku is losing control and Shouto will never, ever lose control.

But he thinks it'd be ok to lose just a little bit. Just for Izuku.

* * *

"Where would I go?"

Izuku's eyes widen. His first urge is to grab Shouto's arms and encourage him on this train of thought, but he doesn't want to scare him off so he keeps his gaze trained on the horizon and curls his fingers over the edge of the castle wall.

"You could come with me," he says cautiously. "We could fit you in my house, and my mother wouldn't mind. Sure, it wouldn't be as roomy as you're used to, but—"

"No," says Shouto. "No. Endeavor would find me."

He falls silent. Izuku sighs and throws a pebble as far as he can. It falls towards the ground in a wide arc, landing in the snow where Izuku can no longer see it.

"But...but what if he didn't?" wonders Shouto. "What if he didn't even care?"

Izuku carefully says nothing.

"No, of course he'd care. He'd come looking. And then he'd hurt you and your mother. I can't do it."

A gust of wind blows through them, carrying loose particles of snow to kiss Izuku's skin, bright starbursts of cold against his cheeks.

"But if I just...left. What if I kept going? What if I ran and never stopped running? What if I hid where he couldn't find me?"

"Shouto," says Izuku.

The other boy's eyes find his. A thought passes between them, with more meaning than words could ever hope to convey.

"Okay," says Shouto.

* * *

It is cold and bright when he leaves. The early morning sun shines off of the ice, melting it in places and layering fragile warmth on Shouto's back.

He stares up at the castle gate for the last time and bends to pick up a loose chunk of rock that had once been part of the wall.

He hurls it at the castle with all the force he can muster.

Then he turns away and begins to walk.

He doesn't look back.

* * *

Before they go to Izuku's home, Shouto insists they stop at the First Glacier.

He doesn't explain, but Izuku accepts it without question. Shouto's glad. There are some things he's not ready to answer just yet.

He's not sure why he wanted to come here, just knows that he needs it. His breath clouds the air as he stares out over the sea.

Izuku is a silent presence at his side. He doesn't know that this is the site of Shouto's greatest failure. He doesn't know that this is the turning point between the Before and the After.

Miles below, beneath the glacier, is beach cottage that had been his mother's favorite. Shouto remembers days on the rocky shoreline, chasing the birds and being chased by Fuyumi and his mother. The ghost of laughter fills the air, the afterimage of his mother's smile, back in the days when they'd had some semblance of happiness, before his mother's mind had split and Shouto had ended the world.

"This is where it began," says Shouto, his voice hoarse.

"Where what began?" asks Izuku, quiet.

"Everything."

* * *

Izuku's mother is kind.

She is short and chubby, round and soft. Her hair is a shade of forest green just a bit darker than her son's, but her eyes, her eyes are the same as Izuku's.

She looks up when they walk in the door, smiling at her son and hardly faltering when her gaze turns to Shouto.

"Mom, this is Shouto," says Izuku. "He needs to stay with us for a while."

The woman nods, not seeming surprised. Shouto's eyebrows draw together. Izuku had said no one knew about him, but maybe…

"It's very nice to meet you, Shouto," says Izuku's mother, voice soft and hand outstretched. When Shouto goes to shake it she quickly cups both hands around his and squeezes comfortingly. "My name is Inko. You stay with us as long as you need, alright?"

Shouto nods mutely.

* * *

Izuku's house is warm, and cozy. Two beds sit in opposite corners, a wood fireplace on one wall. There's a backroom full of shelves, and in the center of that room is a bed of plants.

Shouto is given a cot on the floor by Izuku's bed. Inko spreads out several layers of blankets and waves away his offers of assistance, claiming that he is a guest and that no guest in her home would ever make have to make their own bed. Eventually Shouto gives up trying to help and moves into the back room to watch Izuku tend to his plants.

"It's because of my Kosei," explains Izuku as glimmering energy flows from his fingers into the delicate plants. "That's how I can grow these plants, even when it gets really cold. This way we always have something fresh to eat, and since plants are in such high demand, we can trade them for whatever we need."

Shouto says nothing. He's never thought about the business side of life in the After. All food in the castle had been provided by his few attendants, who came and went without a word. The cupboards were always stocked, and Shouto was always fed, and he feels stupid now for not considering that it would not be the same for all the survivors of his icy apocalypse.

Izuku's fingers dance over a prickly-looking vine and it flourishes under the touch, dark green tendrils twisting outwards above the soil. Small, white flowers burst in places along the vine, and the conical greenish berries turn a deep shade of red.

"Do you want one?" asks Izuku, catching his gaze. Shouto fidgets; if this is their only income then he doesn't want to take from them needlessly. But Izuku takes his silence for an affirmation and plucks a berry from the vine, waiting until Shouto holds out his hand to drop it into his waiting palm.

Shouto brings the berry to his mouth and eats it more slowly than necessary. It's good. It's really good. It's sweet, with just the slightest tang, and juicy. Small seeds crunch between his teeth and he swallows.

"What is that?"

Izuku raises an eyebrow, incredulous. "A raspberry? Wait, have you never had a raspberry before?"

The castle was always stocked with food, but never the fresh stuff. Cans and cans of preserved foods, pre-packaged protein bars, things that will keep and are easy to attain by simply trading for them. Shouto has eaten a lot of canned fruit in the last several years, but he hasn't had a piece of fresh produce since the Before.

A raspberry. Shouto's had raspberries before, of course, but it's been so long that he'd forgotten what they look like. Now, though, looking at the vine and realizing why it's so familiar, Shouto thinks of the small garden patch his mother had kept out back, and it's meager selection of plants. Produce meant for recreational purposes, not meant to sustain life.

So much has changed since then. Even things as simple as eating a raspberry become a revolutionary experience because of what he'd done.

Shouto suddenly remembers why this is such a bad idea. He shouldn't be here, in Izuku's house, in the same room as Izuku's garden. He ruins everything he touches. He knows he should leave, leave now and go back to the castle before Endeavor finds out and there's hell to pay, but Izuku's eyes are holding him in place.

"Is it good?" asks Izuku.

Shouto swallows again, needlessly. "Yes," he says softly. "Yes. It was very good."

Izuku beams. "Come on," he says. "Let's go eat dinner."

* * *

When Izuku was younger, he'd wanted to save the world.

Despite him being small, despite him being powerless, he'd watched the world burn in a million tiny ways and wanted to stop them all. He'd wanted to save the world before the world truly needed saving, and it is cruel irony that now, when it needs it the most, now when he has the ability to help, the world is beyond saving for anyone, least of all a teenage boy with dreams too large for his body.

Now, Izuku lies in bed, curled up against the edge, eyes downcast to the mattress below where Shouto is sleeping.

The other boy looks peaceful, eyes closed against the flickering light of the still-burning fireplace. It's nice, Izuku thinks, to see him like this, without all the sadness that usually clouds his eyes.

Izuku wants to banish that sadness for good. He wants to bring the light back into Shouto's eyes. He wants to make him smile again.

He rolls over and stares at the ceiling. He thinks of himself, as a little boy, clutching a dead sparrow to his chest and crying. His mother's hand on his cheek, her gentle voice reminding him that _I know you try, but you can't save everyone, Izuku. Sometimes you have to learn to let things go._

Izuku thinks of a man who _can_ save everyone. Or a man who _could,_ back before the ice. He thinks of an eternal grin faltering in the face of unimaginable odds, remembers himself crying as the world crumbled around him, as the screams of hundreds of thousands of people were suddenly extinguished. He remembers trying to save people, healing those he could, sobbing against the faces of those he couldn't, sinking to the ground as a large, comforting hand rested on his shoulder, a weight pinning him to reality.

 _We can't save everyone, Midoriya, my boy. I'm so sorry, but we can't save everyone._

 _But we can save some,_ Izuku had thought, back then and now. _We can save some. We can try._

Izuku listens to Shouto breathe.

 _I can save you._

* * *

A week passes. Uneventful. Shouto settles in their home, and they are happy to have him. Things are warm. Comfortable. Everything is fine.

An empty castle is opened. A voice echoes through the halls, bellowing and angry.

A door: slams.

A peace: shatters.

* * *

"Where is my son?" demands Endeavor, fires raging.

The castle is empty, but Shouto can't have gone far. There's not much shelter in the area. Other than the castle itself, options are pretty much limited to the trading post and a few houses here and there. Nearest are two ramshackle homes built up from the ground floor of what used to be an apartment building, back in the Before.

Shouto must be here. Endeavor knows it.

The woman at the door stares at him, blank-faced, one eyebrow raised in carefully composed puzzlement. "I'm sorry sir, have you lost your son?"

"I haven't _lost_ him. Red and white hair, a hideous scar over his eye." Endeavor gestures at his own face in demonstration, maintaining his glare all the while. "Sound familiar?"

The woman frowns and shakes her head. "I'm afraid not. Where did you last see him?"

Behind the woman, just out of Endeavor's line of sight, a blonde boy slips out the back door and sets off through the snow towards the house's only neighbor.

* * *

The door opens with a bang. Izuku jumps; Shouto flinches, and then tries to pretend he didn't.

Kacchan is standing in the entrance, glaring.

"Deku," he growls, storming forward as the door slams shut behind him. "I don't know what sort of shit you've gotten yourself into, but fucking Endeavor is at my house asking about his son."

His sharp gaze travels to Shouto, narrowing in on him with an intense sort of flame. "That must be you, then."

Shouto nods silently. His hands are curled into fists on his knees, his knuckles turning white.

"Well, better get going," continues Kacchan, his voice uncharacteristically low. "My old woman can only distract him for so long."

Izuku straightens, unbelieving. "Kacchan, are you—"

"I'm not doing this for you! Just fucking move it already, shitty Deku."

"Oh my."

Izuko's mother stands in the doorway to the small back room, hands wringing nervously. "I didn't hear all of it, but it sounds like the two of you had better move quickly. Here." She pushes forward and hands Izuku a bag.

It's his backpack, the one he used to carry to school every day, back in the Before. It's full. A quick peek inside shows that it's stuffed with supplies; food, water, fire starters, clothing, a tarp. A second bag is still in her hand, this one an old duffel bag. Izuku stares up at his mother, shocked.

"Mom—"

"I knew this was coming," she says, sounding like she's holding back tears. "I knew this was coming the minute you brought that poor boy into our house. And of course I don't want you to leave but I know you're strong and you'll be able to survive no matter what. I also know you'll never turn your back on someone who needs you."

Tears form in Izuku's eyes. The backpack slides from his fingers and lands with a thump on the floor as his mother presses a hand to his chest.

"Be safe, Izuku. Be safe and come home, when this is all over. Please come home to me."

Her gaze travels to Shouto, filled with the sort of steel Izuku rarely sees. "You keep each other safe," she says. "You bring my son home to me."

Wordless, Shouto nods.

"He's coming," Kacchan says sharply from his position by the window. Izuku's lip trembles and he lurches forward to give his mother a hug. She squeezes him fiercely.

"Go," she whispers. Standing on tiptoe, she kisses the crown of his head.

"Mom—"

"Go!"

Wiping tears away from his face, Izuku slides the backpack up over his shoulders. Shouto picks up the duffel bag and together they move towards the back window, sliding the pane up and letting the frigid air into the house.

"I love you, Izuku!" calls his mother softly as Kacchan crawls out after them.

"I love you too!"

The window closes with a bang.

* * *

The snow crunches under Izuku's boots. The wind tangles his curls around his ears.

His mother, his home, is behind him. Every step away from it is a pang in his heart.

But Shouto, a silent presence at his side, keeps him moving forwards.

And on his other side, considerably less silent:

"Who the fuck are you, again? How did you end up with Deku? Deku, is this where you've been disappearing off to all the damn time, making both our mothers worry?"

Kacchan.

"Kacchan, why are you following us?" Izuku asks tentatively. The other boy snorts, smoke floating up on his breath.

"Someone's gotta make sure you don't die before you make it to civilization."

Izuku stops. Turns. "Kacchan, do you—"

"Shut up, Deku. My mom'd kill me if you died, is all. And don't get me wrong, I'm leaving as soon as we find someplace for him to hide."

Shouto watches them, silent. Izuku's heart fills with warmth.

"Thank you, Kacchan."

"Shut up." Kacchan speeds up his pace so that he's stomping along ahead of them, shoulders all the way up to his ears and cheeks stained a suspicious shade of pink. Tiny sparks appear around his head, making his already spiky hair stand on end.

Izuku shares a glance with Shouto. A small smile graces the other boy's lips.

He never thought he'd leave home, not with the world the way it is now, but a lot has changed. He's met someone who needs his help, found a purpose beyond caring for his mother and surviving in the After. He's found a purpose that makes him think of a tall man with hooded blue eyes and an unfaltering smile.

With Kacchan ahead of him, stand-offish but silently supporting, with Shouto at his side, leaning on him even as he leans back, Izuku thinks that maybe, just maybe, despite leaving home, everything will be alright.


	5. spread

**This...isn't really a chapter. Sorry. I did post it at the same time as an actual chapter, though, so don't kill me.**

* * *

"Did you hear? Endeavor's son has gone missing!"

"Did you hear? Endeavor is looking for someone! A boy, apparently. Says he's guilty and running from punishment. I wonder what he did."

"Did you hear? There's a wanted criminal running around."

"Did you hear? They say there's a villain coming. And not just any villain. They say it's the one behind the ice!"

* * *

 **Wanted**

 **Name: The Ice King**

 **Appearance: 176 cm. Red and white hair. Blue and gray eyes. Burn scar on left side of face.**

 **Crime: Inducing the Great Ice and directly bring about the destruction of the Earth.**

 **Live capture will be rewarded generously by the Lord of Endeavor, Enji Todoroki.**

* * *

"Did you hear? There's a boy who caused the apocalypse."

"That's terrifying. I hope someone gets rid of him. Maybe then the ice will go away."


	6. memory

**It's...another fragment chapter! These will appear throughout the story.**

 **Potential trigger warning on viii. I don't even know if this is necessary but there's a very, very brief implication of suicide. It's really nothing major, but I just want to put this here to be safe.**

* * *

 **i. knowledge**

Izuku does not have a Kosei.

He watches the world through wide eyes; he hopes and he wishes and it is futile.

Izuku does not have a Kosei.

But he has a mind as bright as any star and a heart as strong as any steel, and his dream burns inside of him and refuses to let go.

So he holds the things he learns close to his chest, precious morsels of knowledge collected by a hungry mind. He writes down everything he sees. He watches, and he listens, and he learns.

* * *

 **ii. broken**

Fuyumi strokes his hair.

"It's alright," she says, her voice soft and trembling. "Everything is going to be alright."

It's not. She's lying. Nothing is alright and nothing will be alright.

Shouto curls up tighter on the bed, his left eye burning and his right eye brimming with tears. The room is cold, frost curling around the windows.

"It's broken," sobs Shouto. "It's all broken."

Fuyumi presses her lips together and says nothing.

* * *

 **iii. rescue**

Izuku is drowning.

The man with the water Kosei had looked at him with wild eyes and said, "You are in my way." He'd pushed him into the river and now holds him there without putting a finger on his skin. He holds him there and laughs and cries while Izuku screams bubbles into the rushing water.

Then, the pressure eases. Izuku bursts through the water, coughing.

"Are you alright, young man?" asks a voice, soft, strong, caring.

Izuku nods. He shakes his head. He shrugs his shoulders and wipes tears from his eyes and bile from his lips.

A hand on his shoulder. Deep blue eyes meeting his.

A moment, frozen forever.

* * *

 **iv. punishment**

"Where are you going?" asks Shouto. He wraps his arms around himself and watches his sister at the door.

"I have to leave," she says. "I'm sorry, Shouto, but I have to go."

He shakes his head. "Please—please don't. Please don't leave me here. Please."

Fuyumi looks like she's about to cry. "Be strong, Shouto," she says. "I'll visit, when I can."

She leaves and Shouto is alone.

Almost.

Endeavor's hand lands on his shoulder and he tries not to flinch.

"It's for your own good," rumbles his father.

It's not.

It's punishment.

Shouto knows this, no matter what Endeavor says.

This is punishment for all he's done.

* * *

 **v. gift**

Izuku stands on the shoreline, arms held wide and head thrown back.

He screams.

"You are ready," says Toshinori.

His hand finds Izuku's head. Energy flows between them, and Izuku is strong.

Izuku doesn't have a Kosei.

Until, one day, he does.

* * *

 **vi. 526**

Five hundred and twenty-six days.

That's how long it's been since Endeavor left Shouto alone in the castle. It'd been fun at first; he'd run through the hallways, screaming at the top of his lungs, jumping on the beds and stuffing his face with candy because there'd been no one there to tell him no.

That had gotten boring quickly. So he'd read the books in the library, until he ran out of books to read. He'd tried to turn on the tv, but there was no cable and then there was no electricity and Shouto sunk into dull boredom.

After the boredom came the loneliness. And that, oh, that hurt like a dull blade pressed against his heart, like an old bruise or the sensitive, healing burn around his eye.

Five hundred and twenty-six days since Shouto's punishment began.

Five hundred and twenty-six days until he stopped counting.

* * *

 **vii. luck**

Izuku is lucky.

He's lucky because he's at home when the ice comes. Because he's so close to the epicenter, the glacial spread is dramatic and sudden and hundreds die, but Izuku is at home with his mother and they climb to the top of the building and they are lucky because Izuku's powers react explosively and shield them, for the most part.

Izuku is lucky because Toshinori gave him the ability to save himself and his mother.

He is unlucky because, standing on that rooftop, he watches his friends and neighbors die and he can do nothing.

He is lucky because he is alive. He is unlucky because so many aren't.

Izuku clings to the scraps of his life.

He uses them to plant a garden, and in this garden, he grows a new life from the scraps of the old.

* * *

 **viii. flight**

Shouto stands on the roof and thinks about jumping.

Not to end himself; he is too young, too wide-eyed to harbor those thoughts. No, Shouto stands on the roof and thinks if he jumps he might fly.

Which is ridiculous, of course. He is a dual-elemental, but neither of his elements are air. If Shouto jumped, he would fall, and then there would be no point to anything anymore.

But Shouto stands on the rooftop, regardless. The wind tangles his hair, icy shivers rolling down his spine. With his arms outstretched, he closes his eyes and pretends he can fly.

It's a nice dream.

He opens his eyes and leaves the roof.

There is no flight for Shouto.

* * *

 **ix**. **powerless**

Izuku crouches in the rubble and the ice. A glacier surrounds them, the warm spring day turned to snow, and the world crumbles.

Fires rage in the toppled buildings, agitated by gusts of frigid wind. People are screaming, crying, and the sky is ominous gray, casting the world in shadow.

Izuku crouches in the rubble with tears on his face. He presses his hand to the chest of the women in front of him and breathes and breathes and breathes. His Kosei burns through him, so strongly that it hurts, but the drumming of the women's heartbeat is absent and he has to bring it back.

"Izuku," calls his mother. She's sobbing. "Izuku, please, let's go…"

Izuku shakes his head, adamant. "No! I can do this!"

Heavy footsteps behind him. A hand on his shoulder.

"Midoriya, my boy," says a voice, broken at the edges. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, but you can't save everyone."

Izuku presses his face into the woman's neck and cries hot tears onto her cold, cold skin.

He'd been powerless for most of his life. He'd sworn to never, ever be powerless again.

But here, at the end of the world, people are dying, and he is powerless to stop it.

* * *

 **x. blame**

"What's it like, out there?"

Fuyumi's face is pale in the firelight. "Shouto…"

"What's it like?"

She sighs. "It's...it's not good."

Shouto bites his lip and looks away. "How many people died?" he asks, hoping for an answer, dreading a reply.

"Shouto, I can't…"

"Please. I need to know."

Fuyumi wraps her arms around him and presses him to her chest. "Too many," she says, sad, broken.

"It's my fault."

"Oh, Shouto." She kisses the crown of his head, the way his mother used to before she shattered. "Of course it isn't."

It is.

Of course it is.

But Shouto lets her hold him and relishes in the touch until Endeavor comes and pulls her away.

* * *

 **xi. happenstance**

This is how it goes:

Toshinori is a hero. He is born a hero; he will die a hero. His Kosei is a gift. This gift he gives to Izuku Midoriya. Toshinori saves people. He has always saved people. When the ice comes, Toshinori tries to save the world. He fails. Izuku Midoriya tries to save the world. He also fails. Toshinori is his comfort. Toshinori is his rock. Toshinori is a hero. Then, one day, Toshinori leaves. Izuku doesn't see him again.

* * *

 **xii. facts**

These are the facts:

The world is broken. Two boys fall into a routine within the broken world. They build lives from the absence of life. Both are in stasis. Neither is content. Izuku is cared for. Shouto is cared for. Izuku is loved. Shouto is not. They manage. One day, they meet. One day, their lives are changed. One day, stasis shatters. Together, they rediscover life. Together, they rediscover love.

* * *

 **Hi I uh...I really hate that last part. Like. A lot. It's crappy. Sorry.**

 **Quick note! Once I've written and proofread a chapter, I post it almost immediately on ao3. Sometimes I then post it here, but sometimes it takes me a day or two or even more. This is because makes posting anything ridiculously complicated and my schedule is so busy that I usually don't have the time or energy to deal with it. Chapter will always be posted eventually, but if you want to be more up-to-date come and visit the story on ao3! My username there is Winchester_In_The_TARDIS_Of_Marvels (lame, I know, I'm working on changing it) and the story is under the same name.**


	7. shatter

**Last night at 3am I was struck by the sudden and horrific realization that this is basically the plot of the Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe and that Shouto is the White Witch.**

 **Hello! This is a long chapter. I have no idea whether or not that's a good thing. As always, the editing is minimal so any mistakes are my own. Enjoy!**

* * *

The sun sets before they reach any sort of civilization. As it dips below the horizon, the three of them roll out their sleeping bags below a grove of trees, pushing the snow away with their boots and laying down branches so at least there's a layer between them and the ground. Izuku gathers fallen sticks and Kacchan lights them on fire, while Shouto watches with unreadable eyes.

It's quiet, once they settle down. Izuku reaches into his bag and pulls out a can of soup, which they pass around and take turns sipping from.

"So what'd you do to piss of Endeavor?" asks Kacchan with his usual level of tact. Izuku startles.

"Kacchan!"

Kacchan ignores him (of course) and instead leans forward with his eyes fixed on Shouto. "You're his kid, right? So what'd you do?"

Shouto stares back and says nothing.

"Kacchan, I don't think that's really an appropriate thing to ask," tries Izuku. He can feel the charge in the air, is sure the others can feel it too, but Kacchan is ignoring it with his usual recklessness.

"Come on, _Todoroki_ , don't be shy."

Shouto stands, placing the can of soup on the ground. Without saying a word, he turns and walks away.

"Fucking coward," growls Kacchan, but Izuku is too busy scrambling out of his sleeping bag to chastise him.

"Shouto, wait!" His breath clouds the air as he races after his friend, worry boiling in his gut along with, though he tries to suppress it, just the tiniest bit of curiosity. Kacchan had no right to interrogate Shouto like that, but he's obviously hiding something, has always been hiding something, and the inquisitive voice in Izuku's mind wants so badly to know what.

But pushing will only drive Shouto away, and Izuku doesn't want that.

Shouto is sitting on a frost-covered rock protruding from the snow. His legs are curled up to his chest, and he's got one hand in front of his face, watching tiny molecules of snow dance around the movement of his fingers. He doesn't say anything when Izuku approaches, doesn't even look at him, though there's no way he hadn't heard him coming.

"Kacchan doesn't mean to upset you," begins Izuku, knowing even as he says it that this is wrong, wrong, wrong, that these are not the words Shouto wants (needs) to hear. "That's just how he is. He doesn't really think before talking, and it's always been that way, but really you can just ignore him so there's no need to let him upset you. I mean, he'll probably shout a bunch, but you get used to it eventually and then it's really not so bad, so…yeah."

He trails off, biting his lip. The skin is dry from the cold, and it splits slightly, the iron taste of blood meeting his tongue. He watches Shouto.

"Izuku," says Shouto.

Not daring to move, Izuku nods, even though Shouto's back is to him. He's afraid if he speaks he'll start rambling again.

"Why are you helping me?"

Izuku's breath catches in his throat. "Shouto, you know why."

"No." Shouto turns to his face him, eyebrows drawn together. "I don't."

"Well, it's because…it's because…" Izuku flounders, trying to sum up the right words to answer with and failing miserably. "It's because…well, you need help, and I just thought…I mean, you were in pain and I wanted to…"

Shouto's eyes close and Izuku stops, choking on the words that continue to bubble in his throat.

"It's because you are kind," says Shouto, sounding sad. "It is because you are kind and foolish."

The unspoken words hang in the air: _and soon you will come to your senses and go home. Soon you will come to your senses and leave me behind._

"No," says Izuku, surprising even himself with his forcefulness. He moves to sit on the rock, making sure he has Shouto's attention before continuing. "No, Shouto. It's because I care about you."

Time stops. Izuku's heart skips a beat.

"What?"

"It's…" Izuku's face grows hot but Shouto needs to hear this so he forces himself to continue. "You're my friend, Shouto. I care about you. I want you to be safe and happy. So of course I'm helping you."

"We're friends?" asks Shouto, his voice cracking.

"What? Of course we're friends! Shouto, did you think we weren't?"

"I…" Shouto is staring at him with a combination of wonder and distress. "I thought…everyone leaves, eventually. I don't…you're…we're…"

He's struggling with the words, and Izuku is hurting more with every syllable, so he stops him by wrapping his arms around the other boy. Izuku pulls Shouto close, resting his chin on his shoulder and closing his eyes.

"I'm not leaving," says Izuku. "I promise I will never leave."

They stay there for a while. By the time they get back to camp the moon is high in the sky. Kacchan looks sullen when they return but says nothing.

Izuku knows that they have to stick together. For better or for worse, the three of them are connected now. He has to keep them connected. The only way they'll get through this is together.

He scoots into his sleeping bag and closes his eyes.

Soon, he is fast asleep.

* * *

Izuku dreams of summer. In his mind's eye, he stands on the shoreline, the sand warm beneath his toes and the waves crashing at the shore. The sun is bright and gold, and there is no ice in sight.

Shouto is there. He's smiling, and smiling freely. His laughter is whipped up by the wind and carried into the sky, where it circles like a bird before finally swooping down to alight in Izuku's ears. Izuku laughs with him.

Kacchan is there, too. He's not smiling, but he's not shouting either. He sits on the sand at Izuku's other side, face to the sunlight and eyes closed. He looks content. In the dream, he and Izuku are friends, like they once were when they were young.

His mother is there, standing behind them and watching quietly. When he turns to her she is smiling, and he smiles back.

A hand lands on his shoulder, familiar. He cranes his neck back to meet deep-set blue eyes, sparkling like the sea.

In the dream, it's warm. In the dream, it's safe.

Izuku rolls over in his sleep and dreams in contentment.

* * *

Shouto dreams of a meadow full of wildflowers.

The meadow is circular, and small. Around the perimeter is ice, cold and oppressive. It gives off a chill that he can feel even from here.

Izuku stands before him, in the meadow. His smile is the sun, and the flowers burst in small, colorful explosions at his feet.

"Let's go, Shouto," says Izuku in the dream. He holds out a hand for Shouto to take, and together they walk towards the edge of the meadow.

Shouto hesitates when they reach the ice, but Izuku continues on like it isn't even there. The minute he steps forward, the ice melts, and flowers form in his footsteps.

Shouto follows him along the path of the sun, the ice melting in a wave around them and flowers spreading as far as the eye can see.

* * *

Katsuki doesn't dream. He sleeps heavy and wakes early. He watches the other sleep and ponders the situation he's found himself in.

"What the hell have you gotten us into, Deku?" he mutters, watching the rise and fall of the boy's chest.

"And why did I follow you?"

* * *

The next day dawns bright and cold. They stir slowly, rolling around in their sleeping bags and yawning clouds into the air. Shouto opens his eyes before the others, but stays curled up, content to watch the fluttering of Izuku's bangs with every exhale.

It's nice, Shouto thinks, to sleep in the open air with no walls to pen you in. He'd dragged his blankets up to the rooftop of Castle Endeavor on occasion, but it hadn't been the same. He was never free. Not like this, with the sky above and the world stretching in all directions for him to explore as he pleases.

Not for the first time, and certainly not for the last, Shouto is glad Izuku got lost in that storm and found his way to the castle. It's silly, he knows, but somehow it feels a bit like fate.

Fate is a lie. But if it isn't, it has decided to deal Shouto a single good card, in the form of a green-eyed boy with overflowing kindness.

* * *

Breakfast is meager and unsatisfying. Izuku insists that they ration their food, since no one knows when they'll reach the nearest town or when they'll find more food, and neither of the other two boys argues.

As soon as they are finished with breakfast, they pack their bags and set out again, across the ice and snow. They are silent, for the most part.

"Kacchan, why are you helping us?" Shouto asks eventually, partially out of curiosity and partially as a means to break the silence.

The boy in question stops dead in his tracks. He turns slowly, fire sparking in his eyes. " _The hell did you just call me?"_

Shouto meets his glare without faltering. Endeavor is much more frightening than this angry teenage boy with his feathers ruffled. "Kacchan? Isn't that your name?"

" _No it is not my fucking name."_

Izuku laughs uncomfortably. "Oh, ha, right. Um, Kacchan is just my nickname for him. No one else calls him that."

" _You_ don't get to call me that either," growls not-Kacchan. "The name's Katsuki. But you can call me Bakugou, half-and-half bastard."

Shouto doesn't even blink at the insult. From what he can tell, profanities are merely in the vein of the other boy's speech. "Bakugou?"

"My family name. Now shut up and keep walking."

* * *

They reach civilization as the sky is turning to purple, streaks of pink and blue smeared across it like a watercolor painting. Stars appear, glimmering pin pricks like snowflakes on dark fabric, and Izuku lifts a hand to trace the constellations.

"What are you doing?" asks Shouto.

"The constellations," says Izuku, unsure really how to explain but attempting it nonetheless. "I like to try and pick them out."

Kacchan scoffs. "He's being weird is what he's doing," he sneers, but it lacks his usual bite. Kacchan loves the stars too, Izuku knows, though he's never said it out loud. The stars are the same as they were when the two of them had been children, the one thing that did not change when the balance shifted, the brightness that stayed even when the whole world went dark.

"If he was _smart_ ," continues Kacchan. "He'd be paying more attention to what's in front of him, instead of stargazing. Look."

Izuku turns, following Kacchan's pointing finger towards a spot in the distance, where a light glimmers, reflecting off the ice and making their path look almost liquid. Izuku smiles and hefts his bag up higher on his back.

"Shelter," he says excitedly. "Maybe we can even trade for more food! I wonder if they have any seeds." He bounces forward with renewed vigour. "Come on, guys!"

Unbeknownst to him, his companions trade a glance behind his back. They may not agree on much, Bakugou's attitude preventing it, but in this moment they are both thinking the same thing, that Izuku is naive and this is the apocalypse. There is no guarantee that what is ahead is any safer than what is behind.

But Izuku remains blissfully aware, skipping forward through the snow towards the light in the distance.

* * *

The light belongs to a small collection of houses, enough to to qualify as a village. There's even some sort of communal gathering space, a cafe or a restaurant or a bar or maybe an inn. Izuku's smile doesn't falter as they walk down the packed ice that forms the street, but Shouto follows more reservedly. He doesn't want to put a damper on his friend's excitement, but he can't help the sense of foreboding in his gut.

The inn (restaurant? Pub? Bar? Shouto's inclined to call it an inn. He's only slightly influenced by the fantasy novels he's read. Okay, maybe a lot influenced) seems the best place to look for shelter. Even if it turns out to not resemble a hotel in any way, that seems to be where the people are and if anyone's willing to offer them shelter, this seems the right place to ask. Plus, Izuku is drawn to it like a moth to a flame, and Shouto's heart leaps a bit at the excitement in the boy's green eyes.

Izuku is a people person. That much is obvious. This is the apocalypse, however, so it's not like there's all that many people around. Izuku probably misses people.

(Shouto clamps down on his guilt. Now isn't the time to be harboring those thoughts. Instead he should focus on the instinctual sense of dread he's feeling.)

"This is a terrible fucking idea," growls Bakugou under his breath. Shouto glances at him; his hands are tucked into his coat pockets and his shoulders are slouched, his features cast into shadow. He looks like Shouto feels. Anxious. Worried. Reluctant. And he looks like other things, things that Shouto refuses to let himself feel. (Anger. Passion. Flame.)

Izuku notices none of this. He bounces up to the inn and opens the door.

Reluctantly, the other two follow behind.

* * *

It's warm, inside the inn, the combined heat of many bodies in addition to the hearth burning in the corner managing to beat off the persistent chill of the outdoors. The door creaks as they enter, and several faces turn towards them.

Slowly, as if covered by a wet blanket, conversation within the room dies. Shouto has to clench his fists to repress the urge to grab the back of Izuku's shirt and drag him outside.

"Hi!" says Izuku, beaming as he moves toward the bar at the other end of the room. Whispers crash together like waves in their path, and Shouto bows his head to hide his face.

"You're new around here," says the barkeep, a middle-aged man with fiery orange hair. "Where'd you come from?"

"Two days' walk that way!" points Izuku. "There's just the tw-three houses, and then a trading post if you keep going. It gets kinda lonely, but now that I know there's a town here maybe I'll bring my mom to visit."

The barkeep nods slowly. "Alright. I'm guessing you boys need a place to stay?"

Turns out, the inn does in fact function very much like an old-fashioned inn, with the pub downstairs and some rooms upstairs. Izuku arranges for a room for the three of them, with a pair of beds and a small fireplace.

The stairs creak underfoot as they climb to their room. It proves to be on the small side, but looks fairly cozy. It's clean, too; Shouto imagines the village doesn't get many visitors.

"Two beds," points out Bakugou. "Somebody's gonna have to take the floor and I'm not doing it."

Shouto glances down at the frankly uncomfortable looking floorboards and quickly comes to a decision. "We can share," he says, nodding to Izuku. Bakugou raises an eyebrow and Izuku's face turns red, but neither of them disagree.

Izuku had already arranged for a meal for them; there's a knock on the door and a gangly-looking boy wordlessly hands over a pot of soup. Izuku's the one who takes it, and the breeze that comes off of the closing door wafts the scent of it into Shouto's lungs.

It smells really, really good.

They eat in relative silence, all three too tired and hungry to engage in conversation. The soup is comforting, warm and hardy, settling in his stomach and filling him easily. There's a simple pleasure to this, Shouto thinks, sitting on the floor of this tiny room with soup in their mouths and only each other's company.

Izuku sets his bowl down with a clink. "I want to go talk to the people downstairs. I wonder what they're like? Maybe they have information we can use!" He's practically radiating with excitement. "Do you guys want to come?"

Shouto does, and Shouto doesn't. He hasn't been around people in years, so he's a bit hungered for contact, but on the other hand he's afraid to look into the faces of these people who are survivors of the destruction he caused. He's afraid to see their scars, or to hear their stories; he's afraid of what he might see in the lines of their skin, in their lives that they've salvaged from the wreckage of the world.

But Izuku is smiling, and he is kind and naive and so Shouto nods.

"Kacchan?"

Bakugou shoots him a look that clearly says he thinks Izuku is a moron. "I've been walking all fucking day. I'm gonna sleep. You two can do whatever you want, just don't wake me up when you come back or I'm burning this whole damn building to the ground."

A lot can be said about Bakugou, but he's definitely got a flare for the dramatic.

Izuku shrugs his shoulders a bit and bounces over to the door, excitement not at all dampened by Bakugou's harsh words. "Come on!" he urges, and Shouto joins him.

They walk in silence. Voices from downstairs filter up to them, loud and bright like nothing Shouto's heard in almost a decade now. He flinches slightly as one particularly loud voice rises above the rest for a moment before dying back down into the general murmur.

Izuku glances at him curiously. "You okay?"

With a sigh, Shouto nods, hunching his shoulders. "Yeah," he says. "I'm fine."

He's not. Not really. But he can be, he thinks, for Izuku.

* * *

The pub is loud and warm and Izuku loves it.

He's always loved people; loved the way they laughed, loved the way they talked, loved the stories they could tell and the unique experiences of every individual. He'd spent his childhood watching them, cataloging their Kosei and their actions, analyzing their speech patterns and their movements and their temperaments. A people person, his mother had called him, and she'd been right.

Then the ice came. People died. The world broke, pulling through with only a shred of its former life.

Izuku tries not to complain. He knows he's lucky. He has his mom, and he has the Bakugou family, and now he has Shouto. He's always safe, he's always loved, and yet something is always missing.

This is what's missing.

The pub is alive in the way most of the world isn't, here in the After. It's alive and it makes Izuku feel alive, and he quickly gets sucked up into a whirlwind of conversation that leaves him breathless, heart and mind racing and mouth in constant motion.

Shouto is quiet, most of the time, only interjecting comments when he is directly addressed. Mostly he just sits there, listening, expressionless.

Izuku tries to keep an eye on him, but his attention is in a million different places. He talks about his home, his mom, his life in the Before and how they get by now. He talks about his garden, though he doesn't mention his Kosei, and listens to the stories of the people around him. They talk about their lives, their experiences, the people they know and have known, and Izuku's cheeks are red with the flow of life. His Kosei burns within him, bright and effervescent, fueled by the sheer joy of being around people again.

It's almost two hours before Izuku notices how overwhelmed Shouto looks. Guilt floods through him at the realization, and he wants to hit himself for not thinking of how this would affect his friend. Shouto has clearly been cut off from human interaction for a very long time; he has a sister, Izuku knows, but evidently she doesn't visit very often, and other than her the only person Shouto gets to see is his father. His father, who abuses him, who hurts him inside and out and locks him away and makes him feel he deserves it.

To suddenly be thrust from almost total solitude into a loud, busy social situation must be completely shocking. Shouto seems to be trying to disappear into the shadows in the corner of the room. He looks lost. He looks overwhelmed.

"Hey, Shouto," says Izuku softly, placing a hand on his friend's arm and pretending not to notice the way he flinches.

Shouto turns towards him, expression like a deer in headlights. "Mm?"

"Why don't you go get some sleep?"

Relief flashes over Shouto's face, swiftly followed by concern. "What about you?"

"I'll be fine. Go rest. I'll be up in a little while."

"Are you sure?"

Izuku nods. "Of course."

Reluctantly, Shouto stands. He sends Izuku once last, searching glance, before fleeing across the room and up the stairs. Izuku watches him go, feeling sad all of a sudden, and angry. Sad that Shouto's life has done this to him, and angry that there's nothing he can do to change the past. All he can do is to offer Shouto support, now in the present and continuing into the future, and to protect him from whatever else this world has to throw his way.

"Hey, my friend came in kinda late. Tell him about your garden!"

Soon, Izuku finds himself swept up in the current of conversation. The night moves on.

* * *

Katsuki can't sleep.

Deku and Todoroki left hours ago, and they still haven't come back. Knowing Deku, he's probably gotten so into his chatterbox conversations that he's completely forgotten about being exhausted. Fucking moron.

With a sigh, Katsuki throws his blanket off and clambers out of bed. He doesn't feel like going downstairs, but he may as well explore what he can. So after he's pulled his boots on, he slips out of the room and strolls through the narrow hallway, glancing into doorways as he passes.

Most of the rooms are empty; the doors that are closed he doesn't open. He doesn't really care what's inside.

At the end of the hallway is a small communal space, an assortment of worn and mismatched furniture surrounding a beat-up coffee table. Katsuki enters this room and crosses to the window, looking out over the tiny village and the moonlit snow. It's almost nice, he thinks. If he squints his eyes, he can almost pretend that this is a town in the Before, that this is an afterimage of a better world.

Katsuki shakes his head violently. "Stupid," he growls. Weakness is not something he can afford, especially now, in the After.

As he turns away, a corkboard catches his eye. Moved by some small degree of curiosity and without anything better to do, he crosses to it and reads the announcements there. Most of it is stupid: a repairman advertising his services, a reminder to be watchful for crevasses, a few faded postcards from back when places like that actually existed. Nothing useful. Nothing significant.

Except…

Bold letters, red ink, starch white paper. Professionally printed. High quality materials. And a message that is undeniable.

Rage explodes in Katsuki's gut, and his hands burst into flames.

" _That bastard,"_ he snarls, and rips the poster from the wall so violently that the whole board comes crashing to the ground. He ignores it, turning on heel and storming back out into the hall.

He's not a fool, and he hates being played like one.

That bastard is going to pay.

* * *

It's late. Izuku is slouching at one of the tables, worn-out, sipping gingerly from a steaming mug of tea. The pub has emptied somewhat, the noise dying down to a more reasonable level. Izuku's about to get up and go up to the room when murmured words in the corner catch his attention.

The conversation is hushed. Now that Izuku's paying attention though, whispers are filling every corner of the room, and furtive glances are being sent his way. He focuses on his tea, pretending not to notice, and listens intently. He can only pick out a word here and there, but what he hears makes his heart drop like a stone.

Endeavor. Reward. Criminal. Danger. Red and white. Upstairs. Raid.

Izuku's eyes travel to the bar. There's no one behind it. Several figures from earlier, men and women who hadn't left via the front door, are no longer in the room.

Something crashes loudly upstairs.

The mug falls from his hands and shatters on the floor, but Izuku is already sprinting across the room, taking the stairs two and a time. He has to get to Shouto. He has to get to him now, now, _now._

He crashes into someone as he rounds the corner and ends up on the floor. Panicking, he raises his fists, but then lowers them as the person turns out to be Kacchan, fire in his eyes and around his clenched hands.

"Deku—"

"Kacchan—"

A shout rings out from the direction of their room. Then another, and another. Izuku gets up and starts sprinting, Kacchan hot on his heels.

The air in the hallway gets steadily colder the closer they get to their room, until it's so frigid Izuku can see his breath. He ignores this, ignores the pounding on the stairs behind them, ignoring everything but his drive to get to where Shouto is and make sure he's safe.

The door to their room is open. Inside is chaos.

The beds are overturned. The window is shattered. Shouto is backed into a corner, hands raised in defense, blood seeping from a cut below his eye. Ice spreads across the floor and crawls up the walls and the legs of two strangers, immobilizing them. Another three figures, fire and water Kosei burning and swirling and ready, one carrying an axe, one carrying a pitchfork, and one barehanded, are closing in on Shouto.

In an instant Izuku is across the room, slamming into the man closest to Shouto and sending him crashing to the ground. "Shouto, run!" he yells.

Shouto moves, but not to flee. Instead, he moves towards one of their attackers, ice flowing from his fingertips to freeze the woman in place. She spits a curse at him and takes a wild swing with her axe, but he dodges.

Kacchan enters the rooms. Fire fills the air, melting ice even as Shouto replaces it. In moments the five attackers are unconscious or immobilized.

"We need to go," says Izuku, panting. "We need to go _now._ "

Shouto nods and quickly moves toward the door, but Izuku stops him. "Not that way," he insists, and instead points to the window.

There's a pipe on the wall outside. They slide down it as quickly as they can, running as fast as they can across the ice. Shouts fill the night and lights flicker on in the windows of every house they pass, but they do not slow.

The night is dark, and cold. They do not have their supplies. They do not have their thicker jackets. Voices chase them through the darkness, fires burning above the snow.

Hunted, they flee.

* * *

They stop after what feels like an eternity in the ruins of an old building. Exhausted, they can do nothing but stand there for several moments, chests heaving. Shouto has to put a hand out against a wall for support.

This is bad. This is so, so very bad. And it's all his fault.

"Shouto—"

Bakugou suddenly startles to life, flames bursting into life around him. He advances on Shouto, forcing him to take a step back. The fury in his eyes in sudden and fierce, and it contorts his entire face into a horrific, twisted snarl.

" _You fucker,"_ he shouts, flames licking from his knuckles as he grabs Shouto's collar and slams his against the wall of the building. Rubble falls from what's left of the ceiling and Shouto distantly thinks they should be concerned about the whole thing collapsing on their heads, but he's more focused on the angry fire elemental spitting literal sparks five inches from his face.

" _Kacchan!"_ exclaims Izuku, rushing forward to try to pull them apart, but Bakugou throws out an arm that knocks him backwards. The green-haired boy trips over a fallen support beam and ends up on the ground.

"Bakugou, what—"

"You _fucking_ liar," spits Bakugou. "You goddamn evil bastard. You played us."

"Kacchan, what are you doing?!" cries Izuku, stumbling to his feet and moving towards them again.

"Stay _back,_ Deku!" orders Bakugou. Shouto's shirt is beginning to smoke dangerously. "He's _dangerous!"_

"What are you talking about?" asks Shouto quietly, even though he knows, truthfully, what this is about. He knows that Bakugou knows, that somehow he found out, though Shouto doesn't know how. He hasn't told anyone. The only ones who know are his family. His mother is locked away, Fuyumi would never tell, and Endeavor…

Endeavor wouldn't. Would he?

(Shouto feels sick. He would. This is exactly the kind of thing that bastard would do.)

" _This,"_ growls Bakugou, pulling a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket and unfurling it with one hand. Shouto reads it, dawning horror and realization filling his stomach, and then Bakugou tosses it towards Izuku, who catches it with brow furrowed.

Shouto wants to scream. It's silent as Izuku reads.

Expression unreadable, Izuku looks back up. The paper falls from his fingers and flutters to the ground, forgotten.

A wanted poster. It's a wanted poster, for the inciter of the apocalypse.

A wanted poster for Shouto.

Green eyes meet his. Izuku's face is disbelieving, confused, betrayed.

Shouto rips away from Bakugou's grasp and runs. Hot liquid splashes down his cheeks, reminding him painfully of the day it all began.

Storm clouds move in overhead. A blizzard brews on the horizon.

Shouto ignores it all.

He keeps running.

* * *

 ***hides***  
 **I'm not gonna apologize. Look, I made it clear from the beginning that the boys were gonna suffer. This shouldn't be surprising.**

 **(I can't write action btw. Don't know if you can tell, but I really really can't.)**

 **Anyway, drop a comment with your thoughts! They absolutely fuel me to write. Plus the put a smile on my face and distract me from the stress of being a high schooler so that's awesome.**


	8. float

**I'm not, like, SUPER happy with this but, y'know, whatever. Enjoy.**

 **(As per usual, the editing is...minimal at best. I'm sorry. I don't have the energy to proofread more than once. Which means as soon as I post it I'll see a typo in the literal first sentence because that's what happens every single goddamn time.)**

* * *

There is silence. Absolute, dead, stunned silence.

Kacchan is panting heavily, face curled into a snarl. Izuku wants to say something, but he can't move, can barely think, much less speak. All he can do is stand in shock, watching the space that had just been filled with Shouto and now stands empty but for the whispers of his secrets.

He'd known Shouto had been hiding something. But...but this…

Izuku doesn't want to believe it. He tells himself it must be false, that it's a ploy, that Endeavor has simply made up a story as a means to regain control of his son, but…

The horrible thing is that it makes sense.

 _If you knew what I've done, you wouldn't…_

 _Punishment. For everything._

Izuku thinks of Shouto's quiet and Shouto's pain, the things he said and the things he didn't. He thinks of the snow landing in Shouto's hair, white starbursts against the crimson red. He thinks of the guilt in Shouto's eyes and the rage of his father, thinks of Shouto's reluctance to leave Castle Endeavor despite having no reason to stay.

He thinks of these things and suddenly he can't stand anymore. His legs give out underneath him and he crumples to the ground.

"Let's go home, Deku," says Kacchan harshly. "We don't need to be here anymore."

"But...Shouto…"

"Forget him!" shouts Kacchan, lunging forward and grabbing Izuku's shoulders. "Deku, forget about him! He played you! Don't you understand? This whole time he was lying to you! He's not who you thought he was!"

"You don't...he...I…"

"He _ended the world,_ Deku!" Kacchan's voice cracks, eyes shiny with unshed tears. "He's the reason all those people died! He's _evil_!"

"No, he's not!" yells Izuku, standing, sudden rage burning through him. "He's not evil!"

Silence.

"You goddamn idiot," laughs Kacchan incredulously. "You naive fucking fool. I know you think everyone's your friend, but _he is not. He's a murderer."_

Izuku pulls away, shoving the other boy's hands aside. "You don't know him," he says. "You don't know him."

"Neither do you!" shouts Kacchan. "You think he's your friend, but _clearly he left some very important things out!"_

Shouto hid this. Shouto ended the world. Shouto's a killer.

"No," says Izuku, shaking his head. "No, you don't get it. I...I'm going after him. He'll—he'll explain. There has to be an explanation. There just—there's an explanation for this. There is."

"Don't you go out there. Don't you fucking dare."

"Then stop me," challenges Izuku, unsure even as he says it where sudden the bravado is coming from. He's never stood up to Kacchan before. But now, when it really matters... "Why would you even care, anyway? We're not friends, remember?"

Kacchan takes a step backwards, eyes wide, like he's just been hit with a physical blow to his face. "I...Deku, what…"

Izuku is already gone, feet pounding across the ice and through the falling snow, following the footsteps left by Shouto's flight.

* * *

 _We're not friends, remember?_

Katsuki doesn't know how to take that.

It's true; they're not. Maybe they once were, but things have changed. Maybe Deku got weaker, and maybe Katsuki had said and done some unkind things, but it hasn't registered until now that they are no longer friends.

Katsuki is surprised to find that it hurts.

Deku's an idiot. And he's weak. But he's also intelligent, and persistent, and kind.

Katsuki is many things—strong, talented, brave, smart—but he is not kind.

In a way, he's always sort of envied Deku. It's always been a competition, at least in Katsuki's mind, one that he's intent on winning.

Somewhere along the way, that competition had driven them apart.

Katsuki hadn't thought he cared, but maybe…

It's the end of the world. Most of the people Katsuki had known are dead. He's determined to hold onto those who remain. His parents, Deku's mother, and…

They've been traveling with the bastard who ended the world. They left home because of him. And now Deku's gone after him.

Katsuki hates Deku, but now, in the rubble of a building, here at the end of the world, he is struck by the sudden and undeniable urge to protect.

He tells himself it's just because his mother would murder him if he didn't. He tells himself it's because he can't stand the thought of facing Mrs. Midoriya without her son standing behind him.

(He's lying to himself.)

"If he hurts him," growls Katsuki, and clenches his fists, but something keeps him from running after them. Something like the memory of the bite in Deku's voice before he ran off.

(Katsuki Bakugou cares.)

* * *

Izuku runs faster than he thought he could run. It hurts, in his lungs, in his legs, on his ears and his lips which are bared to the frozen air, but he ignores this. In the distance, he can see the dark figure of Shouto against the horizon. He's not running anymore, at least not as fast as he was, and the distance between them swiftly shortens.

"Shouto!" calls Izuku. "Shouto, wait!"

Shouto stops. Turns. It's too far away to see his face but there is tension in the lines of his shoulders. "Go away!" he shouts back, and then starts to run again.

"Shouto, please!" Izuku stumbles. He rights himself quickly but the gap has grown again. "Please, please talk to me!"

"I'm dangerous!"

"I don't care!"

That stops Shouto in his tracks. This time, however, he doesn't turn. Izuku slows to a jog and covers the distance cautiously, stopping a good several yards away.

"I don't care, Shouto," he says, beseeching. "I don't care about any of it. I just want to understand."

"You...you can't. I...what I did...how can you be standing there when you know what I've done?"

Izuku sighs, ignoring the part of himself that's asking that very same question. "Because I know you," he says. "And I care about you."

"You're an idiot," says Shouto with a wet-sounding laugh. "You're...you're an idiot."

There's no bite to the words.

"Please help me understand."

"There's no forgiving this," says Shouto. "There's no forgiving what I've done. There's not—you don't—"

"Then give me a reason," pleads Izuku. "I'm begging you. Give me a reason to forgive."

"I don't know how." Shouto's voice is soft, crumbling. He sounds lost; he sounds alone. "I don't know how."

Izuku inhales deeply and lets it out on a sigh. He crosses the distance until there are mere inches between them, but he doesn't reach out to Shouto, doesn't touch him.

"Then tell me how it happened."

Shouto is quiet for a long time. The snow falls around them, dampening any noise from the surroundings. Izuku's almost given up hope when Shouto turns, eyes downcast, head bowed.

"Alright," he says softly. "This is the story of how it began."

* * *

"She was unhappy, my mother," says Shouto quietly. "Of course she was. She didn't want to marry him. He forced her into it, because he wanted her Kosei. He wanted to produce an heir of the utmost power, to wield as a weapon. And he finally got what he wanted, with me."

He swallows painfully, eyes glistening like daggers of ice. "My mother...she couldn't take it. And one day, she snapped, and...she poured boiling water on my face.

"I was six at the time. I didn't understand what was happening. All I knew was that everything hurt and I'd just been betrayed by the only person who cared for me. So I lost control. The ice spread and spread and Endeavor was shouting at me to stop, but I couldn't. I was a child in pain and I ended the world."

Izuku feels tears trickle down his face. He wants to wrap his friend in his arms, wants to reach into his past and erase all of the hurt, but he's frozen in the moment, unable to do anything but listen as the snow falls around them.

"So that's why," says Shouto, with a small laugh brimming with pain. "That's why I ended the world. I killed...I killed thousands. _Millions_. All because I couldn't control myself."

"I'm so sorry," whispers Izuku. "Shouto, I'm so sorry."

Shouto startles. "Wh—why are you apologizing? What are you...I don't…"

"I forgive you," says Izuku, forcing the tremor out of his voice. "I forgive you."

There's a soft thud and the sound of crunching snow as Shouto's legs give out and he folds onto the ground. His hands come up to hide his face, but Izuku can see his shoulders shaking.

Izuku says nothing. He lowers himself to the ground in front of Shouto and reaches out his hands, not touching, but offering. He waits.

Shouto leans forward into the touch, and Izuku takes the hint. He wraps his arms around his friend's shoulders and holds on tight.

Neither of them says a word. Neither of them needs to.

They just hold on tight to each other as the snow falls around them, connected at the end of the world.

* * *

Bakugou doesn't trust him.

That much is obvious. Shouto doesn't really blame him, though. He's just glad the other boy isn't actively trying to kill him anymore.

They walk back to the building after a long time. Shouto waits outside while Izuku talks to Bakugou and explains the situation. There's a lot of cursing, some sparks, and a couple of explosions, but in the end Bakugou allows Shouto to come inside. Since then all he's done is sit against the opposite wall, glaring daggers.

The situation is undeniably bad. They have no supplies, and apparently there's a price on Shouto's head. It's also freezing out, and though Shouto can regulate his temperature, it occurs to him that the others can't. Bakugou seems to be alright, if a bit chilly, given the fact that he can also generate his own heat, but Izuku's lips are blue and he won't stop shivering.

"Izuku," says Shouto. Two pairs of eyes turn towards him: one set questioning, the other brimming with a poorly concealed threat.

"Shouto?" The green-eyed boy moves towards him, looking concerned. "Are you okay?"

Shouto holds out his arms and pulls Izuku close. The boy lets out a startled squeak before melting into the hold.

Very slowly and very carefully, Shouto raises his body temperature until his left side is radiating heat. Izuku lets out a contented sigh.

"We need to get you a jacket," says Shouto. "You'll freeze."

Bakugou shoots him a dirty look from where he's trying to turn a few random twigs into a fire. Shouto watches as the other boy stands, grabs an entire support beam, drags it to the center of the room, and sets the whole thing on fire.

Izuku makes a sound of alarm.

"Todoroki," says Bakugou. "Come help me find more sticks."

It's not a request, and Shouto doesn't want to try Bakugou's anger any further than he has. Besides, if it comes down to it, he could probably win in a fight between the two of them.

Izuku watches with worried eyes as Shouto stands and follows Bakugou outside.

It's still snowing; the world is encased in white, ice meeting the clouds above and causing the horizon line to all but disappear. Sound is muffled, the crunching of their boots deafening. Bakugou leads them until they're out of earshot of the rubble, stopping dead and whirling around so they're face to face. His hand shoots out and grabs Shouto's collar, dragging him close enough that Shouto can feel his breath on his face.

"I don't trust you," he growls. Shouto blinks at him, not reacting. This isn't a situation that calls for violent retaliation. Not yet, anyway.

"I know."

"Then you know I'll kill you if you turn on us," continues Bakugou. A spark flies from his hand and burns briefly against Shouto's neck.

He says nothing.

"Deku is the most fucking naive person I have ever met," says Bakugou. "He thinks you're his friend, and he's decided that you're worth trusting. Unlike him, I'm not a fucking idiot. So I want you to understand right here and now that if you so much as touch him, _I will end you."_ He releases Shouto, taking a step back and sticking his hands in his pockets. "Understand?"

Shouto nods. "I understand."

"Good. Now help me find some sticks so we can keep up appearances."

* * *

When they get back to the ruined building, Izuku is gone.

The fire is still burning, but it's gotten out of control, leaping up the remaining walls and melting the surface of the glacier into pools. The snow is scuffed up, footsteps on top of footsteps in an unintelligible mess.

"Fuck," curses Bakugou, hands curling into fists and bursting into flame. " _Fuck._ This is all your goddamn fault."

Shouto's heartrate has passed supersonic and is now heading towards light speed. His eyes scan the ground, looking for a trail to follow. His eyes snag on a piece of paper, nailed to a wall, and he rushes towards it, dread pooling in his stomach.

"Bakugou," he says.

The other boy turns, eyes full of flame. "What?"

With shaking hands, Shouto pulls the paper from the wall and holds it up. Bakugou crosses quickly and snatches it from his hands.

"'Come to town and we won't hurt him,'" he reads aloud. "Oh, fuck."

Shouto's already outside, retracing the steps of their flight. Bakugou is quick to match him, racing towards Izuku.

They don't agree on a lot, but they agree on this.

They have to get to Izuku now, before it's too late.

* * *

Izuku's concerned.

He wakes up tied to a chair, his arms pulled rather uncomfortably behind him. He's in the main room of the inn, surrounded by people much larger and older and _stronger_ than him, each armed with weapons or Kosei that evidently they're not afraid to use.

That's not why he's concerned though.

He's concerned because this is an obvious trap. The people of this town expect Shouto to come try to rescue him, and the problem is they're absolutely right. It won't matter that Shouto must _know_ it's a trap; between him and Kacchan, neither will care. They'll blunder in, Kosei raging and full of bravado, and they'll be captured or killed.

Shouto is wanted alive, but these people are angry. A reward is a strong incentive, but vengeance might be stronger. Izuku doesn't have high hopes for Shouto's fate if the people of this town get their hands on him. And even in the event that they do not kill him, and instead hand him over to Endeavor, his future might be even dimmer. Endeavor must be angry, Izuku imagines, and from what he knows about the man, he'd likely take his anger out on Shouto.

Izuku shivers. This is bad.

(He also shivers because, well, it's very cold in here. No one had bothered to keep the fire going, and the heaviest thing he's got on is a sweater.)

"So," drawls a voice, loud and low in Izuku's ear. "How'd you end up in the company of the Ice King?"

Izuku startles so hard he almost tips his chair, but a hand catches it and steadies him. The speaker is a tall, brawny man with wrinkled eyes and an unkempt beard. He doesn't look unkind, but his breath smells like alcohol and it is a bit unpleasant. In addition to that, his face is currently five inches away from Izuku's, and it's making him uncomfortable.

"I...uh….he's not how you think he is," tries Izuku. Maybe he can talk his way out of this?

The man throws back his head and laughs. "Not how I think he is?" he parrots. "You didn't strike me as an idiot but I guess I was wrong!"

"Hey, Yukimura!" calls a woman from nearby. "Whatcha laughin' about?"

The newly-dubbed Yukimura beckons her over, and she does so, followed by a few other of her compatriots. Soon there is a small crowd around Izuku's chair.

"Go on, kid," urges Yukimura. "Tell 'em what you told me."

Izuku swallows. He feels a little bit like prey, surrounded by a pack of wolves. They're playing with him.

"He's...you don't understand. It's not like...he's not that bad, honestly, I mean, he's…"

Izuku trails off because no one's listening. They're all roaring with laughter. Someone's hand slaps him roughly on the shoulder and he flinches. It's kind of horrifying, actually. Just hours ago, these people had been talking to him as friends. Now they have him tied to a chair, using him as bait and as entertainment in equal measure.

It's not fair.

Izuku'd read books about the apocalypse. He'd read about people's tendency to turn on each other, but he'd never really believed it. People, he'd thought, cared for each other on a fundamental level. And surely that would only get stronger, now that there's fewer people left.

He'd been wrong. Oh, how he'd been wrong. He sees that now.

"Listen, kid," says Yukimura. "Either you're covering for 'im or you're an idiot. For your sake, I hope you're an idiot, cuz' otherwise we're gonna have some problems. Y'hear?"

Izuku looks away and shrugs his shoulders. Yukimura pats him roughly on the head.

"There ya go. Just sit tight while we wait for your little 'friends' to show up."

Yukimura drifts off back into the crowd of his compatriots, and Izuku is finally left alone. He's surrounded, he knows, but none of them seem to be paying him much attention anymore, so maybe—

"Hey," says a quiet voice in his ear. Izuku jumps, cursing himself for allowing yet another person to sneak up on him. He turns his head and is surprised to see a round-faced girl around his own age crouched behind his chair.

"Uh," he says eloquently. The girl brushes a strand of hair from her eyes and stares at him inquisitively.

"They're saying you're in league with the Ice King," she says. "Is that true?"

"What?" says Izuku, like an idiot.

"The Ice King. Are you?"

"No! I mean, yes, but no!"

She blinks. Izuku replays what he just said and decides it made no sense.

"Look, no. I mean. Ok, so yes, he's my friend, but he's not how you think! He's nice."

The girl crosses her arms in front of her chest and raises an eyebrow. "The Ice King is nice."

"Yes!"

"He literally ended the world. How is that nice?"

Izuku swallows. The girl is small, shorter than him, with a round, sweet face and large brown eyes, but her presence is strangely intimidating. It's making him nervous.

"He didn't mean to do it. It was an accident."

"An accident?"

"Y-yes."

She stares at him for a good minute, barely blinking at all. Eventually she seems to find something in his face and sighs heavily, reaching for his bound hands. He startles as her fingers brush his skin, before realizing that she's actually untying him.

"What are you—"

"My name's Ochako, by the way," she says. "Ochako Uraraka."

"I-Izuku Midoriya. Are you….are you helping me?"

Ochako nods briskly. "I don't know what to believe about the Ice King, but you seem nice so I'm willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. After I'm done untying you I'm gonna cause a distraction. You slip away out the back door, over there." She points. "My house is down the street, at the very edge of town. It's the one with the blue shutters. You can hide there. I'll be along as soon as I can. My parents aren't home right now, so as long as you leave the lights off, you should be fine there."

"I...thank you."

"It's no trouble. Just move quickly."

Ochako stands and starts to move away, but Izuku hurriedly calls out to stop her. "Wait! My friends—"

"I'll try to intercept them and send them your way. See you!" With a small wave, as if bidding a casual farewell to a friend, she bounces off towards the crowd of people.

"Ochako! What are you doing here?"

"Oh, I just wanted some tea! Oh, whoops!"

There's the sound of things clattering to the floor and voices raised in surprise. The people all turn towards the center of the action, and Izuku takes the opportunity to slip out of his chair and slink towards the back door, using the shadows as a veil. He glances back before exiting and has to stifle a laugh, because half the furniture is floating in the air, several people along with it.

"Oh no! My bad! Sorry!" apologizes Ochako, and Izuku slips out into the night.

* * *

Katsuki is throwing off sparks. He's angry.

Well, he's always angry, but now his blood courses like flames. When they reach the edge of the town, he steps forward into the light will the full intention of burning the whole place to the ground.

Then he bumps into someone.

"Watch where you're going," he snarls, but stops when a hand grasps at his wrist. Infuriated, he turns towards the transgressor, ready to burn their face off, and is met with the sight of a girl around his own age, the hand not currently on his wrist reaching out to grab Todoroki's.

Is...is she trying to _stop_ them? _What the hell._

"What are you doing?" asks Todoroki. The girl smiles.

"I'm saving your lives. Come on, hurry." She sets off towards a darkened house, dragging them behind her.

"Let the fuck go of me," growls Katsuki, flames raging along his fingertips. She gives him a look but releases her grasp anyway.

Katsuki exchanges a glance with Todoroki, then remembers himself and turns the glance into a glare. Todoroki ignores this, instead hurrying after the girl. "Why would you help us? Where are we going?"

"Yeah, we're kinda busy here," adds Katsuki. "Someone we know got his stupid ass in trouble and now we gotta save him."

"I'm taking you to him," says the girl, not bothering to look at either of them. "Hurry up before they realize he's missing."

"Who are you?" asks Todoroki, incredulous.

The girl turns her head over her shoulder and offers a crooked smile. "Ochako Uraraka. Nice to meet you!"

With her bright smile and the carefree bounce to her step, Katsuki is reminded unpleasantly of Deku. The difference is that Uraraka does not flinch when he snarls, does not dodge away from his sparks. The difference is that she stands firm in the face of his anger and pretends as if she doesn't hear a word he says.

The difference is that Uraraka is strong. Katsuki can see that. Others might see only her small frame and her round cheeks and pass her off as fragile and non-threatening, but others are fools.

Katsuki's no fool.

So he keeps his guard up as he follows her to the house at the edge of town.

* * *

Ochako's house is small and crammed, but inside it is warm and homey. Izuku pads on silent feet through the front door, closing it behind him. It's dark, so he can't really see, but he manages to find a couch and sits down on it.

The cushions are warm, and comfortable. The house is filled with the pervasive smell of baked goods and flowers. He'd noticed that same flowery smell clinging to Ochako, and he wonders where it came from.

It's silent. It's dark. Izuku waits.

Outside, the town is sleeping, occasional voices rising from the inn. After a while, the volume increases, many voices shouting over each other.

They must have discovered that he's missing. He hopes Ochako will hurry up.

The door opens with a creak and slams shut with a bang. There's footsteps by the doorway and the sound of muffled cursing.

"Where the hell is he?" says a voice, familiar, harsh, whispered. Izuku stands, heart pounding, and rushes toward the newcomers.

"He should be—oh, there he is!"

Three pairs of eyes turn towards him. Ochako is beaming. Shouto looks relieved. Kacchan looks murderous.

"What is wrong with you, you little shit? Getting captured like that? Come on, _weakling_." Kacchan storms forward and punches him roughly in the shoulder. "Nice of you to leave me alone with _him._ You better be damn grateful I didn't kill him."

"Kacchan, please be quiet—"

A cool hand on his arm. Izuku turns toward concerned eyes, one gray, one blue.

"Are you alright?"

Mutely, Izuku nods. "I'm sorry. I put you in danger. I shouldn't have—"

"No, it's my fault." Shouto bows his head. "All of it is my fault. I'm sorry."

Izuku wants to protest, wants to make sure Shouto knows, once again, that Izuku does not blame him for anything, but a shout from outside causes them all to flinch. Ochako pushes through and beckons with her finger, and silently they follow her deeper into the house.

* * *

"So," says Ochako, sitting down next to Shouto and crossing her legs underneath her. "You're the Ice King."

Shouto stiffens. Bakugou's keeping watch at the window and Izuku is packing several bags full of the supplies that Ochako had given them. He'd protested when she'd offered, because of course he had, but she'd insisted. Shouto is grateful, because without even proper jackets he doesn't know what they would have done, but now he's alone with her and her eyes are boring into his and he's suddenly feeling very, very nervous.

"I—"

"Izuku seems to trust you," she continues, ignoring his feeble attempt at speech. "And he seems like a nice person. I like to think I'm a good judge of character, and you don't seem evil. So why'd you do it?"

Shouto looks away.

"Did— _did_ you do it?"

He nods once. He's not looking, but he can hear her exhale, soft and shaky.

"Why?"

Shouto flexes his fingers and then curls his hand into a fist. His fingernails dig into his palm and he squeezes until it hurts.

"Hey, stop that." Ochako puts her hand over his and a small gust of air swirls around his skin, a miniature tornado twisting in between his fingers and forcing his hand open. He turns toward her, surprised.

"You're an air elemental?"

Ochako nods, not taking her hand off of his. "You didn't answer my question."

"It...it was an accident." He doesn't elaborate, can't summon up the energy. He feels exhausted, a day of emotional and physical hardship leaving him spent. He'd broken down when he told Izuku; he doesn't want to spill his past before this kind-eyed girl who he's only just met.

"Do you regret it?"

"Yes," says Shouto on a breath of air. "Yes. Yes, yes, yes." His voice breaks, more than once, and he has to swallow down the lump in his throat.

"Okay," says Ochako. Her hand leaves his and she stands. The floorboards creak underfoot as she walks away, disappearing through the doorway and leaving Shouto alone in the dark.

It was so simple. So easy.

Shouto's been broken for so long. But now, with this simple forgiveness, from Izuku and from a virtual stranger, he feels a part of himself heal.

Even with the shouting outside, even with the wanted poster with his face plastered on it, even with his father's rage in his memories and the howling of the icy wind in the eaves, Shouto feels a seed of hope.

Because now he knows forgiveness is possible.

It's the first step to forgiving himself.

* * *

 **uraraka is smol and sweet and could probably kill a man with her bare hands.**

 **Ok, so here's the thing. I still don't know if I was Uraraka to join the boys. In fact, I kinda don't want her too. But I also don't want her to just disappear for the rest of the story. I was thinking maybe she could come with them for a little ways and then break off and show up at the end, but I'm really not sure. Does anyone have any input? It may or may not affect my decision but it'd be nice to hear some opinions.**


	9. warmth

**oh boy this chapter did NOT want to be written. it dragged its feet the whole way and now simultaneously nothing happens in it and a LOT happens in it. also life has been busy as hell lately (i was in a musical, then i sprained my foot, then it was halloween, and i'm crammed with schoolwork. have you ever written an annotated bibliography? it's not fun) so that's why it took so long for me to update the story.**

* * *

They leave in the early morning, before the sun has risen. The sky is painted with dark purples, the clouds near the horizon line just starting to glow underneath.

The town has been buzzing all night. They'd sent search parties out across the ice, and checked every house. They'd hidden in a cramped space under the floorboards in Ochako's house; it had been dark and uncomfortable, and Izuku had been certain that one of the others would certainly set the whole place on fire, but somehow they'd made it through the night without being found. Now, with the search expanded far beyond the town's limits, they prepare to set out under the guise of darkness.

Ochako's parents returned about an hour ago. She'd waylaid them at the door, told the fugitives that she'd try to explain the situation but that they should be prepared to run, and they'd waited with apprehension in the back room.

"Ochako, I just don't think—" drifts her father's voice through the wall. The conversation is hushed, spoken in murmurs, but occasionally a word or a phrase will filter into the room.

Kacchan paces back and forth in front of the shuttered window, sparks popping around his fists as they clench and unclench at his sides, tiny sparks of light that flare up and die with every footstep. Sitting with his back against the wall, Shouto looks pale, and the air is cold, colder than usual, frost curling up around the windows and clouds billowing out from every breath.

On an impulse, Izuku reaches out and laces his fingers through Shouto's. Shouto turns to him with surprise in his eyes, and Izuku smiles, squeezing gently. The tension in the other boy's shoulders relaxes somewhat, and he squeezes back.

"What's taking so long?" growls Kacchan, impatient. Izuku opens his mouth to reprimand him, but the door creaks open as if on cue and Ochako steps in, looking worn-out.

"I've explained the situation," she says. "They've agreed not to turn you in. I'll be taking you as far as the nearest trading post so you can restock on supplies, but I can't go any further than that. I'm sorry. I wish I could do more."

Izuku stands and crosses to her, bowing his head slightly. "You've done plenty," he promises. "Thank you so much."

Ochako's smile is bright, but her eyes are sad. "Well," she says with a shrug of her shoulders. "I guess we'd better get going before the town wakes up again."

Kacchan lets out a loud huff and stomps toward the door, backpack swinging through the air and onto his back and very nearly nailing Izuku in the head. "Finally," he says, voice low and scratchy, like gravel scraping underfoot.

Shouto stands without a word, hefting his own pack up and moving to stand by Izuku's side. If he's perhaps a bit closer than would otherwise be considered normal, neither mention it, and Izuku is secretly glad that he can keep the other boy by his side.

They can't afford to lose each other. Not now, not when their lives have become so twisted up and intertwined.

They slip out the back door into the coolness of dawn. The air is heavy and wet with the promise of new snow later in the day, though the sky is mostly clear. Izuku pulls his coat closer and tightens his scarf around his neck with a shiver.

"Are you cold?" asks Shouto quietly, voice husky from a night of silence. Izuku shrugs his shoulders.

"I'm alright."

"Here." Izuku startles when Shouto's hand slides into his, but he doesn't move away. It's his left side, Izuku notices, and as soon as the thought registers there's warmth flooding into his palm and seeping up his arm.

Izuku can feel heat in his face and he suspects it's not from Shouto's Kosei. He swallows butterflies and tries not to look down at their interlaced fingers.

Something bumps against his shoulder and Izuku stumbles. Kacchan is storming past them, lip curled disdainfully.

"You're gross," he says.

Ochako makes a soft cooing sound from ahead, turning to walk backwards. Izuku wants to tell her to look where she's going but he doubts she'd listen. He supposes that even if she fell into a crevasse she'd be able to save herself with her Kosei.

"I think they're cute," she says, smile bright and cheeks rosy as ever. Izuku yelps and pulls his hand away.

"W-we're not—I don't know what you're—Shouto isn't—"

Ochako laughs and gives him a knowing look. "Of course, my bad," she says, but he can tell from the way her eyes are dancing that she doesn't mean it.

When Izuku risks a quick glance to the side he notices that Shouto is blushing. He's not really sure what that means.

They walk in silence for several yards, Izuku and Shouto still afraid to look at each other and Kacchan still stomping through the snow like it personally offended him. The silence ends, however, when something cold and wet impacts with the side of Izuku's face, stinging his cheek and dripping down into his collar.

"What the—"

"Come on, lighten up!" Ochako is stopped a few feet away, grinning evilly and already scooping another pile of snow into her hands. Izuku shivers, frantically trying to scoop the snow out of his collar, and only barely dodges the next snowball when it comes. It sails over him and impacts directly with the back of Kacchan's head.

Ochako slaps her hands over her mouth and giggles as Kacchan stops dead in his tracks. Steam rises from his head as the snowball evaporates and he turns, eyes menacing.

"Who the hell—"

Ochako points at Izuku.

 _That traitor._

" _Deku,_ " growls Kacchan, storming forwards. Izuku braces himself and tries to hide behind Ochako, but she sidesteps just in time for Kacchan to approach with an entire armful of snow, which he promptly dumps on Izuku's head.

Izuku gasps and ends up inhaling snow. He doubles over, coughing, and finds himself digging his gloved hands into the snow at his feet.

What happens next surprises all of them; after the fact, he couldn't really say what caused him to do it. Whatever the reason, Izuku straightens with a snowball in hand and chucks it at Kacchan's back.

Kacchan whirls around, mouth agape. "Oh, you're _dead,_ " he snarls, and it all devolves from there.

* * *

Shouto's not really sure what's happening anymore.

There's a lot of screaming and running around. Snow is flying through the air. Ochako is laughing so hard she can't stand up straight, and the grin on Izuku's face looks like it could legitimately melt ice, despite the fact that Bakugou seems intent on smothering him into a pile of snow. In fact, upon closer look, even Bakugou looks less moody than usual, the beginnings of a genuine smile appearing at the corners of his lips.

"What," says Shouto.

Izuku skids to a stop beside him, latching onto his shoulder to keep from falling over. He's breathless and smiling, and Shouto can't help but think that in this moment he is radiant.

He's also soaking wet. Melted snow has turned his curls into limp noodles, water dripping down onto his face and shoulders. There's a thin layer of frost on the top, encasing the hair in ice so that it sticks out into the air like Izuku's been electrified.

"Um," says Shouto, and then doesn't really know how to continue.

"Shouto!" says Izuku, beaming. "Oh, you've just been standing here. Why don't you join us?"

Shouto blinks. "What are you doing?"

There's a pause, wherein Izuku stares at him like he's from outer space. "Uh...we're having a snowball fight."

"A...what fight?"

"A what—Shouto, have you never thrown snowballs before?"

"No?"

Izuku whirls around, still looking completely flabbergasted. "Guys!" he shouts. The other two pause from where Bakugou appears to be trying to murder Ochako while she pelts him with floating clumps of snow. "Shouto's never had a snowball fight before!"

Ochako _shrieks._ She throws her hands up in the air and gestures violently in Shouto's direction. All of a sudden, all of those floating clumps of snow (snowballs?) are headed towards _him._

Shouto doesn't quite manage to dodge. Three of them make contact: one on his arm, one on his chest, and one on the side of his face. They sting when the hit him, and all he can do is stand there, stunned, while pieces of ice drip down his face.

Something collides with Shouto's arm. He turns to see the remainders of yet another snowball clinging to the sleeve of his jacket. Izuku is smiling at him, gloves still wet.

"Come on, Shouto," he says softly. "Join us."

"I don't—"

A snowball whizzes past, dangerously close to his ear. Izuku is not so fortunate, and a second snowball nails him in the side.

"Let's go, losers!" yells Bakugou, and then lets out a feral sort of roar as Ochako drops an entire of fistful of ice down the back of his jacket.

The next few minutes are a blur of motion, snow flying everywhere and war cries ringing out across the glaciers. At some point, Ochako jumps onto Bakugou's back and puts him in a headlock. This causes him to stumble and fall into Izuku, knocking him over onto Shouto and causing _him_ to fall as well. In a moment, the snowballs have stopped flying and they're all in a heap on the ground.

Ochako and Izuku are laughing, and Bakugou isn't yelling, at least, and Shouto's heart feels about ready to burst with an emotion he can't quite identify but he suspects is somewhere between happiness and love, and when Izuku's head lands on his chest something loosens inside him and a laugh shakes it's way out of Shouto's mouth.

"He _can_ laugh!" cheers Ochako, arms still wrapped around a struggling Bakugou's shoulders, pinning him to the ground. Shouto blushes and sits up, brushing hair and snow out of his face.

His gaze is drawn downwards when he feels eyes on him. Izuku is watching him, no longer laughing, smile small yet warm as Shouto's ever seen it. His eyes are shining.

"What?"

Izuku sits up and reaches a hand out to touch Shouto's lips. It's brief, like a butterfly landing, but it leaves Shouto's skin tingling.

"Nothing," says Izuku. "I just don't know if I've ever seen you laugh before."

Izuku clambers to his feet and begins to shake snow from his clothing before moving back towards where he'd dropped his bag. Shouto is left sitting there on the ground, stunned.

He touches his lips where Izuku's fingers had brushed them.

Ochako offers a hand to help him up and he takes it. He starts to thank her but is stopped when she gives him a knowing wink. Then she bounces off and Shouto is left wondering what all that meant.

"Hey Half n' Half!" shouts Bakugou. "Move your ass, let's go!"

Shouto shakes his head as if the swirling thoughts are a physical presence and swings his pack up over his shoulders. He jogs over to join the others and together they continue moving across the ice, the scuffed up snow and scattered remainders of snowballs the only sign of their passing.

* * *

The man is laughing.

It's not a pleasant laugh; it grates painfully through the air, ominous and dark. It is the laugh a child laughs as they pour salt over a slug and watch it shrivel, the laughter of a hyena in the night as it stalks its prey. Any who heard this laugh would feel a shiver travel down their spine; fortunately, the only ones in the vicinity are ones who have heard it many times before, and have long since grown used to its manic cruelty.

"Do you see this?" the man manages between laughs, voice shrill and breathy. This too, is unpleasant, a voice edged like a knife and dripping with poison. "Do you _see_ this?"

His compatriot sighs. "Yes," he says, resigned.

"The irony!" The hyena glances down at the sheet of paper once again and bursts out into another round of laughter. "And all this time I thought it was us!" With gloved hands he crumples the paper into a ball and hurls it into a nearby trashcan. The laughter is gone, but a cruel grin slices its way across his face. Like everything about him, the grin is crooked and slipping, the grin of a man whose mind is cracked and warped beyond repair.

The other man, a shadow in the corner of the room, nods his head. "Yes," he agrees. "I thought so too."

The hyena pauses, scratching at his neck. His nails bite into his flesh, even through the gloves, and if his skin hadn't been hardened by layer upon layer of scars, then he certainly would have drawn blood.

His head cocks to the side. "Hm," he says, the sound long and drawn out, humming like bees. "I wonder if it _was_ us, after all."

The shadow straightens. "Oh? How so?"

"Well, that is an awful lot of power for one little boy, isn't it?"

"Yes," says the shadow, thoughtful. "I suppose it is."

After a moment, the hyena throws back his head and laughs once more. "Whoever's fault it is," he says, "it's hilarious."

"Hilarious?"

"That the prince of Endeavor ended the world."

"The son of a 'hero'," muses the shadow. "Yes, I suppose it is ironic, isn't it." He shakes himself and moves out of the corner. Even as he steps into the flickering light, his face remains cast in shadow, swirling darkness and jet-black hair obscuring his features. "In any case, what do you intend to do about it?"

The hyena hums again. "Well, I think it'd be fun to meddle," he says maliciously. "I've been bored."

The shadow sighs, long-suffering. "I do suppose it would be nice to find you something to do," he says. "You've been cooped up here for a while."

"Yes," agrees the hyena. "It's been too long. It's time to remind people of who we once were." His hands drum along the varnished wood of the countertop as he moves towards the trashbin and pulls the crumpled paper back out. He unfurls it with a motion and lifts it up before his eyes.

"Endeavor wants his kid back," he says, voice lilting and sing-song. "Let's go do the guy a favor." He turns, shoving the paper at his companion. The shadow catches it easily, as if he was expecting the motion.

"Contact our allies. It's time we got back out in the world."

* * *

"We should reach the trading post around sundown," says Ochako brightly. "You should be able to restock and figure out where to go from there! The family who owns it has a son our age, and he's a really good friend of mine. He goes on deliveries so he knows the area really well, and maybe he'll be able to help you guys out."

Her excitement is contagious. Izuku smiles back at her and watches a breeze stir the hair around her face. He can't say for sure whether the breeze is natural or whether she's generating it herself. Honestly, he wouldn't be surprised if she was, since she looks as if at any moment she could simply lift off of the ground and starting floating above the ice.

Kacchan scoffs. "So what," he says scornfully. "You have a friend? How do you know he won't turn us in the first chance he gets? It's what I would do."

"Kacchan—"

Ochako snorts and waves a hand at him. "Don't worry, you can trust him."

"I don't trust _you_."

As the two descend into bickering, Izuku falls back to walk beside Shouto. "Hey," he says quietly. His friend glances at him and nods.

"You doing okay?"

Shouto sighs and shrugs his shoulders. "Yeah," he says. "I'm just...thinking."

"Thinking?"

"Yeah."

"About?"

Shouto looks away. Izuku thinks his cheeks get slightly pink but he attributes it to the cold and his imagination. "Nothing."

"Shouto." Izuku reaches out and puts a hand on his friend's shoulder. "You can talk to me."

The other boy lifts his head so that their eyes meet, and then turns to peer up at the sky. "I guess it's just...it's strange, is all. All of...this. Being out here for so long, with you...all of you. And…"

"And?"

Shouto takes a deep breath and pulls his scarf up around his mouth. "You're going to think I'm crazy."

"No," insists Izuku. "I would never think that."

"Well...it's just...I'm not afraid, anymore. And I know that seems ridiculous, with...with everything that's happening, but, uh. It's like, back at the Castle, I was afraid all the time. And I was trapped and nothing _good_ ever happened but now...now I'm…"

He seems to struggle to find the right word, so Izuku helps supply it. "Free?"

"Yes," says Shouto, quietly. His voice is muffled by the fabric of his scarf but Izuku hears it as clearly as ever. "Free."

* * *

The snowmobile slows to a stop, the rumbling of the engine dying down to a dull roar. Its rider dismounts, heavy boots stomping into the ice as he moves to an area of disturbed snow several paces away.

One gloved hand reaches down and picks up the remainders of a snowball. A single red hair clings to it, and the man plucks this off and holds it in the air before his eyes.

The snowball melts in his hands, liquid dripping down to the ice from between his fingers, which he curls into a fist.

"Shouto," growls the Lord of Endeavor.

He swings back up onto the snowmobile and continues across the ice.

* * *

The trading post is larger than the one Izuku frequents. It looks like it was once some sort of warehouse, as opposed to the repurposed barn that Izuku's used to. A sign hangs over the door, bits of metal welded onto wood so that it reads, in blocky letters, _Iida Trade Center._ There are several crates piled outside, a water pump standing a few yards away.

"Whoa," says Izuku. "It's _big_."

Kacchan scoffs but doesn't say anything. Shouto shuffles a half-step closer to his side.

"Come on," says Ochako, grinning. "Let's go in."

* * *

Inside it's warm; Izuku can see at least three different types of furnaces and two camping stoves, and that's just from his position by the door. The warehouse is lit by what appear to be old-fashioned oil lamps, shining from their various positions among the collection. Shelves fill the space, each one stacked with more items than Izuku could possibly count, and varying in everything from food to books to camping supplies.

In front of the shelves is a small reception area that consists of two beaten-down couches and a makeshift counter covered in carefully organized stacks of paper. Behind this sits a tall boy around Izuku's age, who is currently peering down at a book from behind rectangular glasses.

"Hey, Tenya!" calls Ochako, and the boy immediately snaps to attention. The book closes with a slam and he lurches to his feet so quickly it's a wonder he doesn't get lightheaded.

"Ochako!" shouts the boy, expression intense despite his smile. "Greetings! Please shut the door behind you to prevent the cold from getting in!"

Kacchan snorts and folds his arms in front of his chest. "Jesus. Is this guy for real?"

Ochako takes a moment to glare at him over her shoulder. "Be nice," she orders, and then bounces over to the reception desk as if nothing had happened.

"What brings you here today?" asks Tenya formally. "Your last visit was only two days ago."

"I know," says Ochako, then pauses. "It's...sort of important." She meets Izuku's gaze, a question in her eyes.

It's a risk, Izuku knows, to bring anyone into this. It's a risk, too, to reveal their secrets to anyone outside of those who already know.

Well.

Tenya will find out soon enough, and they do desperately need help.

Izuku walks to the desk, Shouto and Kacchan trailing reluctantly behind him. "My name is Izuku Midoriya," he says. "And I think we may need your help."

"Tenya Iida," introduces the boy with a formal bow of his head. When he lifts it again he meets Izuku's gaze, and his eyes are dark blue and piercing. "Let's go around to the back."

* * *

Tenya uses a handheld transceiver to call his brother to man the desk, before leading them through the long aisles of supplies until they reach a door at the back of the warehouse. It swings open with a creak and a gust of cold air, and Izuku has to shield his eyes to keep from being blinded by the burst of white light. Even so, dark spots dance across his vision and he is forced to squint as they move out onto the ice.

Behind the warehouse is a small home; it's built solidly, with a cheery puff of smoke rising from its chimney. Tenya unlocks the door for them and ushers them through, pointing to the stairs opposite. As he relocks the door, Ochako takes the lead up to a what must be Tenya's bedroom.

Inside, Ochako sits down on the blue covers of Tenya's bed and kicks off her boots, folding her legs underneath her. Kacchan drops to sit on the floor and Tenya lowers himself onto a desk chair, back ramrod straight and gaze still not losing its intensity.

Izuku stands awkwardly in the middle of the room, Shouto hovering beside him. Tenya gestures to the bed and Ochako pats the space beside her, so tentatively he takes a seat. Shouto remains standing, eyes downcast and bangs falling to hide his face. Izuku watches his knuckles clench and reaches out to take his hand.

Their eyes meet. _It's okay,_ mouths Izuku, and Shouto sits.

"So," says Tenya, mouth set in a grim line. "Ochako. Care to explain why you've brought a wanted fugitive into my house?"

Shouto tenses. Izuku suspects his grip on the other boy's hand is the only thing keeping him from fleeing out the window.

Ochako sighs. "It's complicated," she says. "And it's not my story to tell." She turns towards Izuku and Shouto, and the room fills with anticipation.

"Shouto?" asks Izuku, butterflies fluttering in his stomach. Everyone's eyes are on him, but it's really not his story, either. Sure, he's a part of it, but in truth it all comes down to Shouto.

"It's okay," says Shouto, an echo of Izuku's one reassurance. He straightens, dragging his eyes up from the floor. He stares defiantly at Tenya, as if daring him to turn them in or throw them out.

"First, I want to make one thing clear. Everything you know about me is true. I am the Ice King, and I did freeze the world."

Tenya frowns. Izuku glances between them, nervous. "Shouto, what—"

"I acknowledge the severity of my mistake. It happened when I was very young, and I was not in control of my actions. I sincerely apologize for any harm it has caused you and those you love." Shouto bows his head, and from his position by his side, Izuku can see his eyes shutter closed. Across the room, Tenya's brow is furrowed, and the atmosphere is tense.

"I hope you can understand," says Tenya slowly, "that I can't forgive you."

Shouto nods, as if he expected this. "I know," he says, soft. "And I cannot forgive myself. However, I am now trying to escape my past and find some redemption for my actions. My father..." at this he chokes, voice breaking like jagged ice, and his hands clench at his sides. Izuku waits several moments and when it's clear the other boy can't continue, he continues in his place.

"The Lord of Endeavor," explains Izuku, "is not the hero he is made out to be."

Tenya leans forward, and the bed shifts as Ochako does the same. "Oh?" says Tenya.

"I won't go into details, but the gist of it is that he is a cruel man who has handled a delicate situation with iron-fisted anger and has done absolutely nothing to deserve the title of 'father'. He's hunting for Shouto, and now that he's spread the word, everyone else is hunting for us too. We're trying to escape, but we lost our supplies in an ambush and we have no plan for where we're headed. Ochako has assured us that you know the area well, and we were hoping perhaps you would be willing to offer us some help."

Tenya opens his mouth to reply, but Izuku's not finished. He reaches into the pocket of his shirt and pulls out one of his last remaining seeds.

"We're not asking you to help us without any sort of compensation. We have the means to pay."

Kacchan starts upward onto his feet. "Deku—" he warns, eyes fixed on the seed clenched between Izuku's shaking fingers.

"Kacchan," replies Izuku. "I know what I'm doing."

This is such a huge risk. If something goes wrong they'll be in even more trouble than before. But they've already shared so many secrets with Tenya, and with Ochako.

Shouto squeezes the hand that's not holding the seed. His fingers are warm.

"In for a penny, in for a dime, right?" says Izuku, and activates his Kosei.

In his hand, the seed splits. A green tendril pokes out and slowly grows upward, until he's no longer holding a seed, but a small, red flower.

"You have a life Kosei?" breathes Ochako. She reaches a tentative finger out to touch the flower, but stops halfway. Izuku reaches out a hand and uncurls her fingers so that her palm is facing upwards. He drops the flower into her grasp and she stares at it in wonder.

Tenya appears to be thinking. He's holding his chin and switching his gaze from Izuku, to Shouto, to the flower, and then back again.

"So?" asks Izuku, almost afraid to say anything. "Will you help us?"

Tenya sighs, rising from his seat and scooping a folded piece of paper off of his desk. He crosses the room and hands it to Izuku, who unfurls it to discover a carefully marked and exquisitely detailed map.

"There's an intact city three days walk from here," says Tenya, pointing to a small red X. "I know the way there. I can take you."

Izuku feels tears pricking at his eyes. He hadn't realized before, how much the cruelty of the townspeople had gotten to him. Now, with Ochako's soft presence by his side and Tenya's intense kindness before him, he is filled with hope for the future.

"Thank y—"

"Why?"

All eyes turn to Shouto, who is now standing. His hand is on Tenya's wrist, eyes drilling into the other boy's face. "Why are you helping us?"

Tenya meets his gaze evenly. "My family runs a trading post. We meet a lot of people. All types, too. Good, and bad."

His free hand raises to rest on Shouto's shoulder. He turns his head to look at Kacchan, then Ochako, then Izuku, and finally back to Shouto.

"I know a good person when I see one."

* * *

 **I discovered that Iida is both very fun to write and very difficult to write.**

 **Shoutout to LadySunami over on ao3 for forcing me to come up with a plot. I was writing the story with the hope that no one would point out the holes but this lovely reader pointed out the holes and I felt I couldn't call myself a writer if I didn't fill them somehow so tada. A plot.**


	10. truths

**I'm back!**

 **If you're interested, I've compiled a world-building post on my tumblr that should answer any questions you may or may have about the world of Icefall. Just go to coffeedoodle and search up the tag 'icefall'.**

* * *

"You said there's a city?" asks Izuku as the sky outside turns violet, streaked gold with the reflection of the sun on the undersides of the clouds.

"Yes," says Tenya, nodding his head. "The city of Yuuei. It is governed by a council of powerful people, and that's why it managed to survive."

"How big are we talking here?" asks Bakugou, a note of interest in his voice.

"Big," replies Tenya. "Maybe not as big as some of the cities in the Before, but it's many times the size of Ochako's village. Most if not all of the buildings are intact, even if none of them are taller than four stories. You should be able to disappear there. It'll be easier to hide among that many people."

"It'll be harder to get away if they find out, though," points out Ochako quietly.

They descend into silence.

It's a gamble, for sure, but the situation has forced their hand. Shouto stares at a crack in between the floorboards. If word catches up to the city that he is the Ice King, they'll be trapped. They'll be surrounded by people who want to capture or kill him, and even if he knows he could use his Kosei to fight, the overwhelming numbers of an entire city's population are not something he can reasonably defeat.

On the other hand, if they don't go to the city, where will they go? With no destination in mind, they could just be wandering forever and ever across the vastitudes of ice. The others will have to leave, eventually, and then he'll be alone, and even with his ability to regulate temperature he knows he won't survive long out there on his own.

"I think..." says Izuku softly, "I think this is really up to Shouto, isn't it."

All eyes turn towards him and he looks up from the floorboards. With a sigh, he straightens his spine and meets Izuku's gaze.

They don't really have a choice, do they.

"Let's go to the city. It's a gamble we're going to have to make."

* * *

"We'll need supplies," says Izuku, fidgeting with the strap of the backpack he'd gotten from Ochako. "We lost all of ours."

Tenya smiles. "Well, you've certainly come to the right place." The boy stands in a rush of air, going from seated position to ramrod straight in the blink of an eye. He lifts his arms, hands poised in a strange chopping shape, and motions towards the door. "Let's go! Iida Trade Center is stocked with anything you could possibly need!"

Ochako giggles. "It's true," she says. "Once I found an actual live crab behind a box of lightbulbs."

Shouto stares. "A crab?" he asks, incredulous. "Where…"

"If it still exists, Iida Trade Center has it," replies Ochako with a shrug and a grin. "There's no explaining it. It is how it is. You'll be able to find whatever you need here."

They move as a group out of Tenya's room and back through the house. As they step off of the stairs, a man who must be Tenya's father waves at them from where he's standing in the kitchen. Then they're back outside in the biting air of twilight, thick cloud cover casting the world into shadow and shielding the stars from sight. The moon shines through the fog, light dimmed but still present, and the ice looks blue in its glow.

Snow crystals crunch underfoot as they move towards the warehouse. At the entrance, Tenya pulls a key from his pocket and turns it in the lock, and the door swings open with an exhalation of warmth. They file in as a group, Tenya closing and re-locking the door behind them.

The size of the collection is overwhelming. Shelves reach to the ceiling, absolutely packed with items of all shapes and sizes. Ladders rest against the shelves here and there, so that customers can reach the things at the top. It's beyond anything Shouto's ever seen.

Well. That's not saying much, considering that all he's seen over the last decade is the inside of Castle Endeavor.

"Wow," says Izuku. "This is a lot of ground to cover."

"I can help!" says Ochako brightly. "Just give me a list!"

Tenya nods in agreement. "I can help as well. Perhaps it would be sensible for us to split up and look for the items you need."

Bakugou has already grabbed a satchel off of a nearby shelf and started walking. "Let's go, fuckers!" he snaps. "We don't have all day!"

Tenya gapes and Izuku sends him an apologetic look. Shouto lifts a hand to his mouth, trying to hide the small smile at Tenya's expression. "Sorry," says Izuku. "He's just like that."

Tenya seems to shake himself before lifting his hands again in that strange gesture of his. "Well! Best get moving! What do you need?"

Izuku starts listing things and Shouto tunes out of the conversation. Aimlessly he drifts along the line of shelves, fingers trailing along the metal as he peers at the objects stacked there. A pile of books, and pair of boots, an orange hat, a snowglobe.

Shouto stops and picks up the latter. It shines in the light of a nearby lantern and he watches in fascination as the glittery snow swirls about the picturesque town cast in the miniature. Why anyone would want this when the world outside is much the same, he doesn't know, but for him it carries a much different emotion. In this glass dome, a moment of happiness is captured, a town taking joy in the coming of a peaceful, harmless snow. It's idyllic, and impossible.

He wonders if this is how the world looked when the snow first started to fall. Everything near the epicenter had been met with the sudden, violent approach of the glaciers, but farther to the south the Great Ice must have come slowly. The people must have been excited, at first, to see snowfall, even in places where snow does not usually come, and he wonders at what point that excitement had turned to dread as the snow had not ceased, had not even slowed. He wonders how they must have lied to their children about the ominous buildup of snow at their doors and windows, must have huddled by their fireplaces when the power went out and went out for good.

"Shouto!"

Shouto startles, dropping the snowglobe. Only his reflexes keep it from shattering against the floor. Izuku trots up to him, looking sheepish. "Sorry, did I startle you?"

"No," lies Shouto. Then, at Izuku's look, "It's fine."

They fall silent, combing the rows of shelves together. After a while, it becomes apparent that there is, in fact, some sort of organizational system, as they step into a row that seems to be entirely made up of non-perishable food.

Shouto pulls a can of soup off of a shelf and inspects it. The wrapper is faded, but from what he can tell it's cream of tomato.

"Low sodium," comments Izuku over his shoulder, peering at the same can. "That means it's not gonna be as salty."

"Is that good?"

"I dunno. Depends on your preference, I guess."

Shouto hums and tucks it into the bag he'd picked up a few rows back. By his side, Izuku is placing several cups of pre-prepared ramen into his own bag.

Something's been bothering Shouto for a while now, but he's been afraid to bring it up. But here they are, side by side, without any of the others. If he's going to say it, he'd better say it now.

"Izuku," he says. His friend turns to him, absent-mindedly placing a bag of jerky back on the shelf.

"Hm?"

"I…" Shouto trails off, afraid to continue. This is important, he knows, but he's not sure if Izuku's thought about this at all. Asking him to would mean admitting that, inevitably, they're going to have to part ways.

"Shouto, what is it?"

A loud laugh drifts over from a couple shelves down, and Shouto tenses. "We need to talk. Can we...can we go outside for a moment?"

Izuku frowns, but nods. Shouto zips up his bag and swings it over his shoulder, turning away and beginning to walk towards the door. Izuku follows, boots padding softly against the concrete, and Shouto can feel the other boy's eyes burning holes into the back of his head.

Outside, the night is fully darkened and lit only by the moon behind the clouds. Shouto holds the door open for Izuku and then channels his Kosei into his foot to create a small block of ice which he uses to prop it open. That done, he takes a deep breath and turns toward his friend.

"Is everything okay?" asks Izuku, sounding concerned. It's hard to see, in the darkness, but Shouto can just make out the wrinkle in the center of his brow, and cringes at the fact that he caused it.

The cloud cover drifts away from the moon for a moment and Shouto begins.

* * *

Shouto looks nervous. No, not nervous; anxious, and almost afraid. Izuku bites his lip in worry. What is he afraid of? Now that they have some semblance of direction, why is he suddenly anxious?

"What is your plan?"

Izuku blinks, confused. Don't they have a plan? Isn't that the whole point? "What do you mean?"

"We left without a goal. We just...ran. But you have a home. A mother. I can't go back, but you _have_ to. So when are you going to leave?"

Izuku's chest tightens. No, this isn't...this isn't right. "I'm not...I won't…Shouto, I'm not leaving."

Shouto sighs and brushes red-and-white bangs away from where they hang low over his brow. His skin is pale in the moonlight, the scar around his eye standing out in glaring contrast to the rest of his face. He's looking away, refusing to meet Izuku's eyes. "Yes, you are."

It's definitive. It brooks no argument. It wobbles at the edges but is firm at the center, and it makes Izuku feel sick.

"No, Shouto, I can't—"

Shouto's hand lands on his shoulder, warm and heavy. "Izuku. When we get to the city, you have to go home."

"No!"

"Izuku, it's okay—"

"No, it's not!" explodes Izuku, shoving Shouto's hand away. "I'm not leaving!"

Shouto's next breath is trembling, and in the moonlight his eyes are wet. "You have to."

" _No_." Izuku's heart pounds in his chest, wild and aggressive. He's not sure why he feels so strongly about this; Shouto is right, after all. His mother is back home waiting for him, and there's no guarantee she'll be able to make it in this cruel world with only her weak metal Kosei. Bakugou's parents will take care of her, of course, but the fact remains that she needs him.

And yet…

"I won't leave you," says Izuku, and the words come out sounding like a plea. He notes with a distant hint of surprise that his face is wet. "Shouto, I-I _can't_."

"Why not?" asks Shouto. His voice is flat, emotionless, but his eyes are filled with turmoil. "Why _not_?"

"B-because...because…"

 _Because I love you._

The thought catches him by surprise and he feels heat flood through his cheeks. It's wild, and reckless, but he knows in his heart that it's true.

He can't say that, though. He doesn't know how to say it.

"I just…I _can't_ ," chokes Izuku.

Shouto sighs. "Alright," he says, but Izuku can see in his face that the argument is not over.

A wind gusts past, blowing old snow up around them. In the moonlight, each flake of snow is like a tiny, spinning star, and Izuku can't help but think that, despite everything, it really is beautiful. Even if half the world is dead, even if society is in shambles, looking out across the ice you wouldn't know it. Cast in a blanket of white, everything looks clean and endless. Even a moment can be timeless.

Izuku wants more than anything to crystallize this particular moment, and all of the moments he's spent with Shouto. If he could encase their time in ice, perhaps he could preserve it, and then they'd never have to part. He'd never lose this, never have to watch it melt away.

Izuku's hands are cold and his heart is aflame. He's shaking, though he's not sure if it's from his emotions or the frigid temperatures, and all he wants is to reach out and pull Shouto close, tuck him into his arms and never let him go. He doesn't want to lose this. He can't lose this.

"Shouto, I—"

Izuku's eyes meet only darkness where Shouto had been only moments ago. The door hangs open slightly, faint light forming a pathway on the ice.

The moment is shattered. The delicate balance they had spun around their flight had been shattered, too, shattered by Shouto and his sharp, poisonous truths.

Izuku sighs and drags a shaking hand over his face. Then, once he's composed himself sufficiently, he heads back inside.

The door closes with a bang, and the wind howls across the glaciers. Snow piles over their footsteps as a cloud moves back over the moon and everything is once again cast in darkness.

* * *

There's a roaring outside, like thunder or an engine, and then silence. Heavy footsteps pound towards the door and it opens with rattling force, slamming into the wall with a violent bang. Smoke threads through the air and shadows ripple dangerously around the twisting light formed by the flames that lick at the stranger's face.

Tensei Iida looks up from his book and hides his shock. Face carefully neutral, he sits up straighter in his chair and smiles mildly at the huge man who stands before him.

"Welcome to Iida Trade Center," he says politely. Under the desk, his hands are shaking. "How can I help you this evening?"

The figure approaches, sending off sparks and surrounded by an aura of doom. His hands fall heavy on the desktop and he leans in uncomfortably close, breath hissing angrily through barred teeth. He'd be several feet taller than Tensei even if he weren't confined to his wheelchair, and now looms over him like some sort of beast or a bad omen.

Slowly, Tensei's fingers move to the button on the underside of the desk and depress it as quietly as possible. His smile doesn't falter, even after the signal has been sent.

"Where," growls the figure, voice low and ominous, "is my son."

* * *

Tenya is enjoying this.

Even with the potential disaster of being associated with a wanted fugitive and his two very interesting companions, it's...refreshing, to have something to do other than man the desk and run deliveries. And besides that, he always loves to spend time with Ochako. She's bright and kind, an unceasing light in the darkness, and they've known each other since even before the Great Ice had come. Her friendship is warm and constant, and he always waits in anticipation for her bi-monthly visits.

So everything's good, considering the circumstances. Tenya peers down at the list in his hand, given to him by that Izuku boy (who, in Tenya's opinion, seems like someone worth trusting, even if he is a bit naive) and pulls a tube of antiseptic off of the shelf.

That's when his handheld transceiver beeps and everything goes wrong.

Frowning, Tenya places the antiseptic into his bag and pulls the transceiver out of his pocket. Dread curdles in his stomach when he sees that the small light at the top is flashing red.

Tenya turns on the transceiver but doesn't speak. If this is an emergency, speaking would only give him away.

There are voices, crackling and hard to decipher, but one is clearly Tensei's and one is clearly not. Tenya can't make out words, but he can definitely understand the tone.

It's not anything good.

Tapping comes over the line, and Tenya's back goes rigid. He scrambles for a pen and a notepad on a nearby shelf and listens intently to the message Tensei is sending.

When they were young, they'd spent hours learning it together. Tucked up in bed, Tensei's weight on the mattress, they'd poured and poured over a book of morse code. _"So we can still talk, even when I'm overseas,"_ Tensei had promised. " _I'm not supposed to use phone lines when I'm on a mission, but if you know morse code, we can communicate that way."_ And Tenya had beamed, even though he'd secretly thought it all a bit silly, because if Tensei wasn't supposed to send messages, then a bit of morse code wouldn't change anything. But he hadn't mentioned it, because he'd loved spending time with his brother.

Now, he's glad he'd payed attention. Communication, in any form, is invaluable in the After.

 _Dot. Dash dot. Dash dot dot. Dot. Dot dash. Dot dot dot dash. Dash dash dash. Dot dash dot._

 _E. N. D. E. A. V. O. R._

Tenya's stomach drops to his feet, but Tensei isn't done. Hastily he moves to scribble down the rest of the message.

 _Dot dash dot. Dot dot dash. Dash dot._

 _R. U. N._

* * *

The air is tense between Izuku and Shouto, and neither of them likes it but neither will acknowledge it. They resume their search through the shelves in silence.

Suddenly there's a gust of air and the pounding of footsteps. Izuku turns, and behind him Shouto does the same. Tenya skids to a stop before them, eyes wide and air still settling around him. A few loose papers flutter to the floor from a nearby shelf.

"We have to go," says Tenya, voice low and urgent. "Where are the others?"

Izuku blinks. "What's happening?"

"He's here." Tenya turns his gaze to look at Shouto, expression severe. "Endeavor."

"What?" gasps Izuku, taken aback. "How did he find us? How did he _get_ here so quickly?"

"The snowball fight." Kacchan appears behind Tenya, arms crossed and brow low over his eyes. Ochako appears a moment later, bouncing nervously on her toes. "It must've been the damn snowball fight. We didn't cover our tracks."

"But that doesn't explain how he caught up to us," points out Ochako. "He doesn't have an air Kosei. Unless he's dual…?"

Shouto shakes his head, taking a step forward to stand beside Izuku instead of behind him. "No, his only Kosei is fire. He probably took the snowmobile."

"He has a _snowmobile_?" hisses Izuku at the same time that Ochako lets out a shocked gasp and says, "A snowmobile?!"

"Yes," Shouto says flatly. "He's the Lord of Endeavor. You really think he wouldn't have exactly the resources he needs to come after us? How do you think those posters made it to the village before we did? He may be a terrible person but he's smart and he's powerful. He has eyes everywhere."

"Regardless of how he found you," interjects Tenya urgently. "We need to leave. Now. My brother's distracting him, but I don't know how long that will last."

Izuku nods curtly and swings the backpack up on his shoulders. They might not have everything they need, but they have enough to get by. Hopefully between the five of them they'll have covered all bases.

With hurried footsteps they move as a group towards the back door. Izuku notes that Tenya keeps pulling out his transceiver and bringing it to his ear, and every time he does they can hear the distant and heated conversation taking place at the front of the building.

Izuku's just put his hand on the door handle when the sound on the line peaks and then fades. They all freeze.

" _Shouto_!" bellows Endeavor from across the warehouse, voice filling every corner of the building and echoing in the eaves.

 _"Tenya,"_ comes the voice of Tenya's brother over the transceiver. _"I'm sorry, I couldn't stop him. He's coming, and he knows about your guests."_

"Shit," swears Kacchan, already shoving the door open. He reaches a rough hand out for Izuku's shoulder and pushes him out into the night. " _Move._ "

No one thinks twice. They just start running. The door closes softly behind them, and Izuku glances briefly over his shoulder to see that Ochako had the presence of mind to close it carefully. There's no reason for them to give Endeavor their exact location.

"Iida," snarls Kacchan as they run. "You told your brother?"

Tenya shakes his head, already pushing ahead of them in a gust of air. "No, but Tensei's smart. He must have figured it out."

"Well—"

"Does it really matter?" gasps Izuku, channeling his Kosei into his legs to give him more momentum. He skids to a stop, however, when Tenya swerves in front of him and starts heading for the house.

"What are you doing?" hisses Shouto.

Tenya doesn't answer. In front of them, a plume of snow rises through the air, kicked up by his abrupt halt at the rear of the house. When it settles, they see that he's dragging a large sled.

"Get on," he orders. "Ochako, you get the back. See if you can lighten them up at all."

"What the hell are you doing?" demands Kacchan, sparks dancing around his skin. "This isn't the time for a sledding excursion!"

"No, Kacchan, I think I get it," says Izuku, mind racing. Both Ochako and Tenya have air Kosei. If he, Kacchan, and Shouto all climb onto the sled, the two of them should be able to move them faster across the ice. From what he's seen, Tenya excels at using his Kosei as a source of propulsion, and Ochako's speciality seems to lie in making things float. It's a smart plan, especially since there's no way they'll be able to compete with Endeavor on foot, but Izuku thinks he knows how to give them even more of an edge.

"Shouto," says Izuku breathlessly as the three of them clamber onto the sled. "Can you freeze the ground behind us?"

Shouto's brow furrows, but he nods anyway. "Why?"

Ochako and Tenya have each taken a side of the sled and the air has started to swirl around them. Beneath them, a pocket of wind lifts them up to hover barely an inch above the ice, and a gust collects around Tenya's legs. The sled jerks into motion, speeding across the glaciers at incredible speed, and the three onboard have to clutch for the sides to keep from falling off.

"Kacchan! Can you give us some explosions?"

"Shut up, Deku! Who do you think I am?!" shouts Kacchan indignantly, but does it anyway. Fire and sparks shoot from the boy's hands, illuminating the path behind them and working like an engine to add another layer of propulsion.

"If you turn all the snowfall into hard ice," explains Izuku as Shouto focuses his eyes on the glacier behind them, "then Endeavor's snowmobile won't have any traction, and we won't leave any tracks. That way we'll be able to move faster and he won't be able to follow us once we're out of sight."

"Great thinking, Izuku!" shouts Ochako, beaming at him from her place behind the sled. "But I don't know how long we'll be able to keep this up for. No offense, but you guys are kinda heavy!"

Izuku frowns, considering. It is true that Ochako and Tenya are probably going to grow tired very quickly. At this point, there's only one thing left to do. After all, he's the only one who has yet to contribute.

With hurried fingers, Izuku unzips his backpack and digs around until he finds an energy bar. He almost drops it several times, but eventually manages to unwrap it and shove it in his mouth. Chewing as quickly as he can, he pulls his off his gloves and boots and lays himself flat across the sled.

"Don't freak out!" he orders around a mouthful of peanut-flavored protein. His fingers latch onto Ochako's wrist and his foot presses against Tenya's back. In the distance, there's a sound like the revving on an engine, and Izuku turns on his Kosei.

Glowing light surrounds him from head to toe, concentrated around his hands and feet. Body humming with energy, Izuku pours his Kosei into Ochako and Tenya. The wind kicks up and their speed increases.

Ochako lets out an ecstatic laugh. "Izuku, this is amazing!" she cries, eyes dancing, and Izuku smiles back even as sweat builds in the nape of his neck. He's not cold, despite the climate, and every inch of him prickles like he's surrounded by a million needles. It's not uncomfortable, per se, and if he's honest, the rush of adrenaline brings a sense of euphoria. He feels like he could continue to do this forever.

It's hours before they stop in a grove of looming evergreens. Needles litter the snow, turning the ground dark as they skid to a stop amidst the shadows of the trees. The sled drops to the ground with a soft thud and all five of them sag.

"We did it," gasps Ochako.

Izuku offers her a smile and then drops it. It takes too much energy. His breath is heavy in his lungs, rattling in and out of his ribcage like knives. The cold air burns his throat, his lips cracking from dryness. He tastes blood on his tongue when he licks them.

"Izuku."

Shouto's hand rests on his shoulder, turning him onto his back. Izuku looks up into mismatched eyes and is stunned to find that they are brimming with fear and concern.

"Oh my god," breathes Ochako. A gentle finger brushes the inside of Izuku's wrist and burning pain explodes up his arm. He gasps and tries to pull his limbs close to his body, but he doesn't have the energy to even do that.

The adrenaline fades, and suddenly everything is pain. Dark spots dance through Izuku's vision.

"Stay with us," orders Shouto, leaning close and placing a shaky hand on either side of his face. "Izuku, stay with me."

Distantly, Izuku hears shouting. Ochako searches through their packs and Tenya gives worried medical advice while Kacchan screams and screams about his stupidity. _How could you do this, Deku? You know your limits, how could you exceed them you idiot?_

"Sorry," exhales Izuku shakily, the word hardly even a whisper.

The dark spots expand and keeping his eyelids open any longer grows to be too much work.

The worried voices of his friends surround him and Izuku slips into unconsciousness.

* * *

 **ok but let's be honest. it wouldn't be izuku if he didn't go and break every bone in his body.**


	11. roots

**I wrote this at 1am so I dunno if it's any good.**

 **A NOTE! Even with all that planning I did, I still managed to screw up the timeline. I had to tweak some things to make it fit, but just so you know: the Great Ice happened when the boys were nine, not six.**

 **I used snakes as a negative metaphor a lot in this chapter. I apologize to any snake lovers. I too love snakes. However, 'slithering', 'venomous', and 'fanged' are all adjectives that apply to them so they're really great metaphors for scariness.**

 **Warnings: murder (human and animal), blood.**

 **(both of which appear near the end of the chapter so you're safe until "history")**

* * *

 **i. power**

Toshinori Yagi is the king of the Middle Kingdom, the chosen heir of Nana Shimura. He is one of the most powerful men in the world and he is loved by his people.

But Toshinori is lacking one thing. He is lacking an heir of his own.

And Toshinori Yagi is dying.

* * *

 **ii. first**

The first time they meet, a man with wild eyes and a broad, crooked grin is holding the back of Izuku's head and hurling him into the river.

Water swishes around him, stealing air from his lungs, and then he is free again, and another man is offering a gentle hand.

Izuku is four years old when this happens, and he does not remember it.

* * *

 **iii. meetings**

When Izuku is five years old he meets a man.

The day is bright, sun shining off of metal swings and soaking into the hard plastic of the slide. He's at the park, barefoot on the hot, hard pavement, and the soles of his feet are burning.

"Ow," whimpers Izuku, but doesn't move. He doesn't want to mess up his results.

"Young man," says a voice, huge and frail at the same time. "What are you doing?"

Izuku cranes his head over his shoulder and tries to hide his pained expression. "Research," he says simply.

The man laughs.

* * *

 **iv. heir**

"You need to find an heir," says Torino, frowning at him from across the table.

Toshinori sighs. "Yes, but it has to be the right one."

Torino levels a meaningful look at Toshinori's abdomen and chomps a piece of toast in between his teeth.

"Clock is ticking, Toshinori."

* * *

 **v. aspirations**

"All Might is the coolest," says Izuku one day, swinging his feet off of the dock and beaming.

"All Might? You mean m–the king?"

Izuku nods enthusiastically. "Yeah, that's his nickname because he's the best. Mom says we're lucky because sometimes we get rulers that aren't so great, and All Might is the nicest of the three kings."

Toshinori smiles and, on impulse, reaches out a hand to ruffle Izuku's hair. "Why is he the nicest?"

"He just is!" says Izuku, jumping to his feet and raising his fists high above his head. "All Might saves everyone who's in trouble, even if he doesn't need to! He's the king but he still comes out of his castle and helps people!"

Settling down, Izuku turns his grin towards Toshinori.

"I want to be just like him."

* * *

 **vi. choice**

"I've found an heir," says Toshinori.

Torino smiles.

In his eyes, Toshinori is not the king of the Middle Kingdom. He is not All Might. He is not the sole living wielder of the Kosei of life. In his eyes, Toshinori is a young man who has no one but himself, a lost little boy with dreams too big for his body. When Torino looks at Toshinori, he doesn't see a glorious hero; he sees the boy Nana brought home as her heir, the boy he raised and trained and watched grow into the man he is now.

And in this moment, Toshinori speaks of a young dreamer of unbreakable spirit and a kind soul, and Torino sees Nana as she was when she first met the boy she would come to care for almost as her son.

"And you're sure he's the one?" asks Torino, even though he knows what the answer will be: it's written all over Toshinori's face, shining in the sapphires of his eyes.

"Yes, I'm sure."

"Good."

* * *

 **vii. name**

It is a cold day. The sky is gray, and while it's not quite raining, there's a definite fog of precipitation from the heavy clouds above.

Usually, they meet in the park, but the chill is the kind that creeps into the bones and sticks, the kind that has you sneezing for a week. So instead, they sit in a coffee shop. They have a window table, squeezed into a corner. A single carnation wilts in between them, and the table shakes slightly every time Izuku swings his legs back and forth.

"Izuku," begins Toshinori.

Izuku hums to show that he's listening, not taking his eyes off of his notebook. The steam from his hot chocolate drifts up his nose, sweet and intoxicating, but it's too hot to drink. His tongue still burns from trying.

Toshinori doesn't say anything else for a while, though, so Izuku pries his eyes away from his scribblings. The man is watching him, brows furrowed and expression unreadable.

"Toshinori?"

His mentor startles, hand jerking with the motion and knocking into his mug. Coffee sloshes around the rim and a few drops slide down the ceramic.

"Are you okay?"

Toshinori sighs and leans forward across the table. His large, calloused hands reach out and gently close the notebook, before taking Izuku's smaller hands and looking him square in the eye.

"Izuku, I'm afraid I haven't been entirely truthful about who I am," he says, voice low and serious. "I have made some decisions regarding you and your future, and so I think it is time I told you the truth."

"The truth? What are you talking about?"

"Izuku, what is my name?"

Izuku frowns, confused. "...Toshinori?"

"My full name."

Izuku's mouth opens and then closes. "Oh," he says. "I don't...I don't know."

Toshinori nods. He already knew this.

"My full name is Toshinori Yagi."

Izuku's eyes widen and his jaw drops. That's...that's impossible. "Y-Yagi? You mean...you mean like…"

"Yes," agrees Toshinori calmly. "I am the king of the Middle Kingdom."

* * *

 **viii. worthy**

"You want me to become...your heir?"

A nod, simple and firm.

"But...why me?"

Toshinori smiles, and for a moment it as if the gray of the skies has turned to blue. "Easy," he says, as if it really were that easy. "You are worthy."

"Worthy?"

The smile fades and the clouds return. Toshinori looks grim, like bad memories are stirring and turning his mouth to ash.

"Let me tell you a story."

* * *

 **ix. inheritance**

Izuku is eight years old.

In a year's time, the world as he knows it will be in pieces. In a year's time, the earth will be encased in ice, a little boy's pain punishing all for the sins of those who hurt him. In a year's time, Izuku will be kneeling in the rubble of his neighborhood, uselessly crying into the limp body of a woman he could not save.

But he does not know that.

Izuku is eight years old and he's standing on the beach. The wind blows through his hair, playing with the curls like kite strings on his scalp, twisting through his clothing and leaving him feeling almost naked against the force of it. Sand shifts beneath his feet, and a gull cries overhead.

"Are you ready?" asks Toshinori, standing before him in an oversized jacket, pulled tight around him against the chill.

Izuku nods.

Toshinori lifts his arms to either side of him. Power surges through his form, making him appear larger than life. His hair stands on end, unaffected by the sea wind.

Large hands rest against Izuku's head, and the world splinters with blinding light.

* * *

 **x. history, part 1**

A history:

A man is born with death at his fingertips. He reaches out a kills a bird with a touch; watches it fall with quiet fascination, feathers spinning like miniature pinwheels to rest on the beaten earth.

The man moves on to cats, and then dogs, and then livestock. Everything he touches is drained of its life force, sent plummeting to lie at his feet, unmoving, powerless.

He is sixteen years old when he kills a person.

She's his girlfriend. They're tucked into the back of a car, kissing and kissing and kissing. Their hands grasp at each other, hungry for touch, hungry for more, more, more.

Her phone rings.

(It's the other boy. The one she's been sleeping with for three weeks. The one she didn't tell him about.)

"I can explain," she cries, struggling to get away, but he straddles her hips and pins her down with his knees. His hands grip her shoulders and he is angry, angry, angry, and she is so powerless beneath him. Her tears mock him, her apologies as hollow as the cavity of his lungs.

Tendrils of plants sprout from the seat cushions, bursting through the leather and reaching for him. They tug at his hair, futile in their attempted defense.

Power surges through him, and then she is dead.

He sits atop her limp, cold, body, and stares at his hands. The plants wither away around him and he feels nothing but emptiness.

"So that's what it feels like," he says to the skeletons of the leaves.

* * *

 **xi. history, part 2**

The thing about taking life is that it has to go somewhere.

The rush of power is not draining. It's _fulfilling_. He is a battery waiting to be charged, a ravenous beast clawing for the life-giving meat to fill its belly.

So he kills. He kills and kills and kills and feeds.

* * *

 **xii. brother**

There is a young man.

He is the kin of a monster.

"Stop it," he begs. "Please, please, stop this madness."

His brother watches with cold, empty eyes. "Madness?" he muses. "No, I think not. Which of the two of us is on his knees?"

And the young man chokes around a sob. "Brother," he pleads. "Brother, don't do this. Please."

The brother sighs like an arctic wind. "Pathetic," he says, scornful. "But I suppose you are right; we are blood, and so I owe you a debt."

His hands dart forward and clasp around the young man's throat. Power surges through the touch, static filling the air and unease writhing through the shadows like some hideous, serpentine beast.

Then, the power fades, and the touch is broken. The young man collapses, gasping.

"There," says the brother, turning away. "My debt is paid."

* * *

 **xiii. hercules**

A happenstance:

The sky is dark red, the color of blood, and a Hercules falls to his knees.

"No," he gasps. The face of his mentor, pale and broken, laughing and forgiving, fills his mind. " _No_."

The Hydra laughs. "Really," he says. "You're going to keep trying."

"Always," gasps the Hercules. "Always."

"How foolish," tuts the Hydra, circling like a bird of prey or a hyena, coming in for the kill. "Best to give it up before you get hurt, _All Might_."

The name rolls off of his tongue like an insult, or like poison. The Hercules presses hands dripping scarlet to his gut and glares.

"Never," he swears. "I have a duty to my people."

"A _duty_?" sneers the Hydra. "How very cliché of you."

There is a pause, wherein the shadows hang suspended in the air like clothes on a line. The sky shifts in hue from bright scarlet to dark crimson, and the Hercules curls matching red fingers into a fist.

Then the moment shatters.

They fight, two Leviathans locked in combat. Lightning flashes against the sky, chaos and order and light and darkness and destruction and creation clashing like the rammed tusks of two mountain goats.

They are perfect opposites. They are Life and Death.

And in the end, neither wins.

* * *

 **xiv. broken savior**

A future (or, perhaps, a past):

 _I will kill you, All Might. I will kill you and all those you love. I will destroy this precious kingdom of yours; I will watch you crumble._

It is the Day of the Great Ice and the air is filled with frost and smoke.

The former king stares out at his broken, ruined kingdom, and nearly collapses from helplessness. At his feet, his chosen heir screams into the cooling chest of a corpse.

 _There's nothing I can do. All of it was useless._

His voice crosses a distance. "I'm sorry," he says, and it hurts like cut glass in his throat. "I'm so sorry, but we can't save everyone."

 _I can't save anyone._

A man stands above him, dark and cruel. His eyes sing with bloodlust and his mouth opens like the hideous maw of a snake. _I'll kill them all,_ he says. _I will find all those you care for and I will destroy them._

And Toshinori peers down at the tear-stained face of the boy who has become to him almost like a son and finally realizes.

 _I can't save everyone, but I can save you._

* * *

 **xv. distance**

"Are you sure this is wise?" asks Torino, uncharacteristically soft.

Toshinori closes his eyes and laughs like a scream. "It's the only choice I have, Torino. I'm out of options."

"Wouldn't it be better to stay?"

He shakes his head and it hurts like a dagger against his spine. "I have to protect him. As long as he is around me, they could find out about him, and then they'd come for him."

"I thought you cut the head off of the snake. I thought All For One was dead."

Another laugh, this one tasting like broken glass. "He cannot die," says Toshinori bitterly. "He's death itself."

* * *

 **xvi. origin**

Izuku Midoriya is eight years old.

A year from now, the world will fall apart and he will lose the man that has become like a father.

But he doesn't know that.

And now, he stands on the beach, radiating power, and screams with pure exhilaration.

"You are ready," says Toshinori, eyes smiling.

"Yeah," says Izuku, breathless as he turns to meet his mentor's gaze. "I think I am."

* * *

 **I'm gonna have to write some action in upcoming chapters which I am Not Looking Forward To but before we get there, I hope you enjoyed this backstory chapter.**


	12. knowing

**um. i was doing some planning last night and uh. this story not only gained several chapters but also grew a sequel. which. is a terrible idea but you know. whatever. (this fic will get finished but i can't guarantee i'll have enough steam to make it through an entire sequel and also like. this is turning into the longest thing i have ever written and that includes the original novel i wrote when i was twelve.)**

 **If you haven't read the world building post on my tumblr (go to coffeedoodle and look up 'icefall'), I strongly suggest you do so now. It's relevant.**

* * *

Izuku awakens to the muffled sound of talking and the smell of something cooking.

The world comes back in pieces; there's chattering in his ear, then fuzziness around the edges of his eyelids, then tingling in his extremities. His hands and feet are almost numb, besieged by millions of bees.

It's a struggle to open his eyes past his eyelashes, so he leaves them closed and tries to open his mouth. His lips are chapped and his tongue tastes like cotton, his throat feeling like paper when he swallows.

A sound escapes; not a word, but a barely audible noise. It seems to be enough, though, because the muffled voices stop and footsteps approach. A hand, cool and soft, moves to rest lightly against his cheek.

"Hey," says a voice. It's Shouto, breath warm against his ear.

Izuku forces his eyes to finally open. Above him is an unfamiliar ceiling, rough and hewn from wood. He's lying in a bed that he doesn't recognize, with a woven blanket covering his lower half.

"Wh–"

He doesn't get any further than that and breaks down into a fit of coughing. Shouto leaves his side but is back a moment later with a glass of water.

"Here," says Shouto, holding the glass to his lips. "Drink this."

Izuku does, and the cool splash of water is a relief. It doesn't take him long to down the whole glass, and by the time he's done he's awake enough to sit up and wipe the water away from his lips.

"Where are we?" he asks, voice still hoarse.

Shouto pauses even as he takes the now-empty glass. "We're –"

"Ah! He's awake then?" A gruff voice cuts across the room. Izuku turns toward it and finds himself looking at an unfamiliar old man, standing from a rocking chair where it appears he'd been talking with Ochako and Tenya. Kacchan sits off to the side, elbows resting on his knees and back slumped against the wall.

"Who are you?" asks Izuku of the old man, who has crossed the room with surprising speed and now stands beside Shouto at the bedside.

The man huffs something that might be a laugh or might be a scoff and pats Izuku's hand, which he now sees is heavily bandaged. "You can call me Gran Torino," he says. "And you're the kid who almost killed himself outside my house."

"What happened?"

Ochako answers this time, having followed Torino with Tenya close behind her. "You passed out after we stopped. We were all really freaked out, but then Gran Torino showed up and said he would help. He led us back to his house and bandaged you up and now here we are!"

"You overused your Kosei," says Torino, peering accusingly at Izuku through narrowed eyes. "That can be dangerous, especially for you."

Izuku blinks. "Wha—why especially for me?"

 _Does he know—?_

It's like a switch has been flipped, because in an instant the glare has dropped from the old man's face and been replaced by a dumb smile. "Sorry, who are you, again?"

Izuku's mouth drops. "What?"

"He's senile, Deku," calls Kacchan from across the room, causing Izuku to splutter at his rudeness. "Don't bother trying to make sense of anything he says."

Torino grins at Izuku and pats his arm. "Would you like breakfast?"

Breakfast is a simple affair. Torino cooks a large batch of oatmeal over a wood stove and serves it in battered bowls with goat milk and maple syrup. It's good, warm and filling, and after he's eaten Izuku feels much better. He eats it sitting in bed, and the others drag a table near him and all take seats around it. It's cramped, but comfortable.

Across from Izuku, Torino puts down his spoon and turns wrinkled gray eyes on him. "Alright," he says, and all semblance of senility is gone. "Let's have another look at those injuries."

Izuku nods and holds out his hands. Torino takes them and gently unwraps the bandages, and Izuku winces at what's underneath. It's not a pretty sight. His skin is warped and purpled in some places, pink and burnt in others.

"What happened to him?" asks Ochako, peering over his shoulder. Izuku bites his lip.

This isn't the first time he's seen this. It's been a while since he let his Kosei get away from him like this, but it used to happen a lot when he was younger.

Torino's gray eyes are unreadable as he turns Izuku's hands to get a look at the other side.

"Kids. Give us the room."

* * *

The others leave without too much argument, leaving Izuku alone with Torino. Nervousness grows butterflies in his stomach and he has to fight to keep from pulling his hands away from Torino's grasp.

"So. You drained the vitality."

Izuku startles. He looks up from his hands and meets Torino's steely gaze. "Wha—"

"Don't play dumb with me, kid. You've got Life and you overused it. I know what the consequences look like."

"How—"

Torino lets out a dry sort of chuckle. "Believe me, kid," he says. "I've seen it before."

"But—"

"Well, let's get to healing," Torino bulldozes, and surprises Izuku again by moving his and Izuku's hands to rest across Izuku's knees. "Take what you need. I'm not using it for anything."

Izuku just blinks at him, at a total loss for what to do. His life seems to have slipped entirely out of his control at some point and he's really not sure how to get back on top of it.

"Well? Go on! We don't have all day."

"I, uh…" Izuku draws back as far as he can with his broken limbs and the wall behind him. "I don't understand."

Torino rolls his eyes. "It's not that complicated, kiddo. You drained the vitality from your hands and feet, and now you're all broken and a mess. You can't heal it because you only have enough life force to keep you operating at a normal level, and even if you had the control to channel it safely into different portions of your body, you're drained enough that that might kill you. So, you need life force to heal. Take mine."

Izuku's breath catches in his throat. Torino must be crazy, to say something like that. Offering his own _life force_ like it's some casual thing—it's insane. He can't. He can't just take someone's life from them.

"I _can't_!"

"Yes, you can," says Torino impatiently. "Look, you don't have to take _all_ of it. Seeing as you're still alive I'm assuming you at least have enough control to siphon off what you need, regardless of whatever lackluster training I'm sure you've been given. Now go on, or I'll tell the Todoroki kid how you feel about him."

Izuku's heart does a somersault and the noise that leaves his mouth sounds a little bit like the death throes of a mouse. " _What?!"_

" _Do it._ "

With a shaky breath to steady himself, Izuku finally obeys. He doesn't feel good about it, but the old man _is_ insisting, after all, and he can't make it to Yuuei in his current condition.

He closes his eyes and reaches out with his Kosei. The air grows warm around him, energy thrums through his veins, and the world begins to glow from beyond his eyelids. Slowly but surely, he feels his body start to heal. It's such a good feeling, like submerging oneself in a hot bath, that he almost forgets to let go when it's time.

Thankfully, though, he remembers at the last second and shuts it off. He opens his eyes.

Torino is swaying before him, suddenly looking exhausted. There are bags under his eyes, and every wrinkle looks deeper.

Izuku brings his newly-healed hands to his mouth in horror. It was too much. He took too much. He's gone and killed the man who helped him so much.

"Oh, god," he says, reaching for Torino's shoulders. "Oh god, I'm so sorry, I'm—"

Torino, thankfully, does not keel over on the spot. Instead he forces his eyes all the way open and gives Izuku a crooked grin. "Don't worry, kid," he says. "I'm fine. It wasn't the first time."

"It...wasn't?" Several things slot together in Izuku's mind and he almost jumps out of his skin with the sudden rush of delayed confusion. "How do you know so much about Life?"

"I've lived it," says Torino, with the straightest face Izuku's ever seen. There's a beat of silence before the man's expression cracks and he waves a dismissive hand in the boy's direction. "Nah, I know you're asking about the Kosei. Well, that's a bit of a long answer."

"I'm listening," Izuku says, and only just barely dodges it when Torino swats at him. As it is, the old man's hand cuffs the edge of his ear.

"Don't be impertinent," chastises Torino gruffly.

"Sorry."

Torino harrumphs and crosses his arms in front of his chest. "Alright, kid," he says eventually. "First off, I know a lot of things. I know you've come a long way. I know you're on your way to Yuuei. I know you're running from Endeavor, and I know it's because you're trying to escape with his son, who allegedly caused the Great Ice."

Panic rises in Izuku's gut and he stands abruptly. "You—"

A light punch to the gut forces him to sit down again. "I'm not finished," says Torino sternly. "Don't worry, I'm not gonna turn you or your boyfriend in."

"He's not my—"

The look Torino levels on him quickly shuts him up. Arguing with this man is completely pointless.

"I know things about you," continues Torino as if he'd never been interrupted, "that you might not even know about yourself. I know things that those others out there _definitely_ don't know about you."

"Like what?"

"Like that your Kosei was given to you." Izuku inhales sharply, but Torino is still talking. "Like the fact that you were born without any power and all."

"How—"

"And like I know that you, Izuku Midoriya, are the chosen heir of Toshinori Yagi, and therefore the prince of the Middle Kingdom."

* * *

The map crinkles before them, and the hyena runs one long finger across the lines of ink. He traces a path from north to south, crossing glaciers and townsteads before resting on a large, dark spot circled in red.

"Yuuei, huh?" he says, voice lyrical and manic. "Those brats do have an ounce of sense."

"Shigaraki Tomura," says the shadow with a hint of warning. "Yuuei is a very dangerous target."

"But not impenetrable," points out the hyena without looking at his companion. "We've already got our claws in."

"Still, I'm not sure it's wise to reveal our hand so soon."

The hyena frowns, and it's obvious he's not convinced. "Sensei," he says suddenly, and he's not talking to the shadow. "What do you think?"

The voice that answers comes from nowhere and everywhere all at once. It is cold and menacing, and if anyone could kill with just a word, it would be this man. " **Yuuei,"** says Sensei, and even with only two syllables the name drips with a hydra's venom. " **It could be an important opportunity for your growth, I suppose."**

The shadow, though his face is hard to determine, looks uncomfortable. "Sir," he says delicately. "With all due respects, I'm afraid revealing ourselves could jeopardize our entire organization."

Sensei laughs like ice. " **There is no end to us,"** he says. " **Whatever happens, we will go on. We are eternal."**

The shadow is not pleased, but he doesn't say anything else.

The hyena is grinning like he's just caught a rabbit and is preparing to dig in. "So we can attack?"

Sensei hums thoughtfully. " **It is true that the Council of Yuuei provides our greatest opposition,"** he says. " **But unless He is there, I do not wish to spoil our plans."**

"He's there," insists the hyena. "He's on the Council."

" **Are you certain? Or are you simply reporting rumors?"**

"Our spies confirmed it," assures the hyena. "Kurogiri, tell him." The shadow bows his head.

"It's true. We have confirmation of his presence in the city."

When Sensei next speaks, his voice is smiling, and the sound of it is frightening enough to cause paralysis in anyone unfortunate enough to hear it. " **Good. Then perhaps we will kill two birds with one stone, as it were. Tomura, prepare your men. We will bring Yuuei and the Council to its knees."**

"And what of the boy?" asks the shadow, ever the voice of reason. "The 'Ice King'. Should we kill him as well?"

A pause, as Sensei thinks, or perhaps simply for the effect. " **No. Capture him before we strike. He could be an important weapon."**

"How do you know he'll cooperate?"

Sensei laughs, but it doesn't sound like joy. It sounds like blood and metal and untamed evil.

" **We'll simply need to provide him the proper motivation."**

* * *

Outside, it's started to snow again. The world is silent, a muffled blanket of white fluttering down in pieces to lie across the craggy bases of the pines. A plume of smoke rises from the chimney to meet the gray clouds above.

"This fucking sucks," says Bakugou, kicking at the ground. A clump of snow goes flying and collides with the base of a nearby tree. "It's damn cold out here. What are they even doing in there?"

"I'm sure Mr. Torino had a reason for sending us out," says Tenya, logical as ever. "Doctor-patient confidentiality, and all that."

"Doctor-patient confidentiality my _ass_ ," growls Bakugou. "He's no doctor. He's some old geezer who lives in a shack by himself. For all we know, he could be murdering Deku in there, and we just left because he said so."

Ochako lets out a huff of laughter and punches him lightly on the arm. "Oh, lighten up you guys! He seems nice to me. I'm sure Izuku's fine!"

Shouto sighs. She's right, of course; Gran Torino is a harmless old man, and despite his gruffness he doesn't seem to harbor any ill-intentions. Still, with all they've been through over the past few days, Shouto has to admit to some measure of nervousness. He doesn't like being separated from Izuku like this, especially with the memory of the boy's kidnapping lingering in the recent past.

Well. He supposes he'd better get used to this, since Izuku's going to have to leave once they've reached the city. They can't stay together forever.

And god, doesn't that hurt.

Shouto has lived a life of pain. He's been loved before, of course, but those who love him are taken away, only to leave a hollow spot in his heart. His mother, who betrayed him, his sister, who he rarely sees, and his father, who never really loved him at all. There'd been a time, when he was young, that Shouto had looked to his father and seen a role-model, seen a loved one. There'd been a time when he'd have called himself Endeavor's son without flinching.

But that had been a long time ago, and at some point Shouto had decided that loving anyone just isn't worth it. All it brings is pain.

And yet, here he is, loving someone again.

It's a different kind of love, this time. It's not like with his mother or his siblings. When Shouto looks at Izuku, he feels warm and he feels lost, but it's lost in a good way. It's like spiralling along on a summer wind, feet brushing soft grass and hair tangled with the loose petals blown from the cherry trees. It's confusing, and wonderful, and Shouto doesn't know what to do with it.

All he knows is that he doesn't want to let it go. He doesn't want to let _Izuku_ go.

"Hey," says a soft voice by his side, and Shouto jumps, startled. It's Ochako, hand on his shoulder and eyes warm as they stare into his.

He nods his head at her and doesn't say anything.

"He's gonna be okay, you know. I haven't known him long but I can tell he's strong. He's a survivor."

"Yeah," says Shouto, shrugging. "I guess."

"He is," insists Ochako, turning him to face her and bring her left hand up so that both of her hands are on his shoulders. "And you are too. Both of you are survivors."

Shouto finds he can't meet her eyes.

"And I think you make each other stronger. I think, as long as you have each other, you can do anything."

At this, Shouto lets out a dry laugh. "That's not going to last long," he says, and the words hurt him even as they leave his throat. "He has to leave, you know. We can't stay together. He has a life. A home. And I'm just—"

Ochako shakes her head at him, a small smile crossing her lips. Behind her, Tenya is lecturing a sulking Bakugou, who stops pouting only to shout snappish retorts back at him.

"You're kinda dumb, you know that?" says Ochako, still smiling, and Shouto blinks in surprise.

"What?"

"All of you boys. You're such idiots."

"What are you—"

Ochako pats his shoulder before stepping away. "You'll get it eventually," she says, grinning. "Just wait for him."

And then she's gone, skipping across the snow to intercept the argument between the other two before it gets too heated. Shouto is left standing alone, confused, with a lingering warmth on his shoulder from her touch.

"Wait for who?" he asks, too quiet for anyone to hear.

* * *

"So...so you know."

Torino nods. He's smiling.

"How?"

A groan, as Torino straightens and moves away from the bed. There's a clatter of dishes as he begins to clear the table, and Izuku rushes to help, eager to hear the answer and also still guilty for taking so much of Torino's life force.

"It's simple," says Torino, even though nothing is simple anymore. "You were trained by Toshinori, right?" At Izuku's nod, he continues. "Well, I taught Toshinori."

Izuku almost drops the plate he's holding but manages to steady himself at the last moment. "What? But that would make you the former ruler and I thought she was dead and also...a woman?"

Toshinori snorts with laughter. "Yes, Nana Shimura is dead. But I was her advisor, so I ruled in her place and trained Toshinori until he was ready. He was your age when she died, you know, and look at how _you_ handle that power."

"So that's why you know so much about the life Kosei?"

"Obviously." Torino points toward a basin in the corner of the room and throws a towel at him. "Go get your friends and then help me wash these."

Izuku catches the towel at the last second and bobs his head once in acquiescence. His head is spinning, mind full of whirling thoughts and revelations. Gran Torino was Toshinori's teacher and Nana Shimura's advisor? How long has he known about Izuku, and how come Izuku hasn't heard of him before? Why is he living out here alone? How did they get so lucky as to stumble across him? And—

And if he knows about Toshinori and he knows about Izuku, then does he know where Toshinori is?

The thought stops him dead in his tracks, inches from the door. He turns, slowly, worrying his lip. He wants to know, _needs_ to know with a sort of reckless desperation, but he's almost afraid to ask.

"Um, Gran Torino," says Izuku softly. The old man doesn't look up from the dishes.

"What?"

"Do you know where Toshinori went?"

Torino's hands still. Soap bubbles drip down his fingers into the basin and the moment of silence is horrible.

"Yes," he says simply.

"Where?"

"I think," says Torino, finally turning to look at him. His eyes are ancient and silver, and Izuku feels a shiver travel down his back, even as his heart fills with despair and hope. "That you will find out soon enough."

"What does that mean?" cries Izuku, sudden tears rising unbidden to his eyes. "Where is he? Why did he leave? Is it something I did? Is he alright?"

Torino sighs like a mountain and turns away. Water splashes as he begins to scrub again. "Go get your friends, kid."

"But—"

"Izuku." Izuku stops, mouth still agape, eyes still stinging. There's a quiet sort of intensity in the way Torino speaks, and it paralyzes him.

"Those are questions you're going to have to ask him."

" _When?_ "

"Soon," says Torino, uncharacteristically gentle. "Soon."

* * *

When the door to the cabin swings open and Izuku steps out, Shouto's heart does a flip and he suddenly feels like he can breathe again. Tenya and Bakugou stop arguing immediately, and Shouto knows he didn't imagine the flash of relief that crosses Bakugou's face before he schools it back into his characteristic scowl.

"Izuku!" shouts Ochako, and dashes forward to wrap him in a hug. Izuku looks startled, but a smile breaks across his face.

"Hey, guys," he says. "I'm healed." He lifts up his hands to demonstrate; the bandages are gone, and the skin is healed, though there's still something crooked about his fingers. It doesn't make sense for him to have healed so quickly, but Shouto is relieved enough not to question it.

As a unit, they file back inside. Izuku stays back to hold the door for them, and Shouto pauses in his tracks at the back of the group. As the latch clicks shut, Shouto reaches out a tentative hand to brush Izuku's arm.

"Are you okay?" he asks quietly.

Izuku's expression is hard to read, but his eyes are in turmoil. Shouto's not sure, but it looks like they're brimming with hope and relief and dismay. For a moment, as the fire glints in the other boy's irises, Shouto thinks he even sees something that looks like betrayal.

"Yeah," says Izuku, voice equally hushed. "I'm okay."

* * *

 **ochako: god these boys are so stupid why am i still here**

 **torino: you're telling me**

 **What's the opposite of writing yourself into a corner? Whatever it is, I did that.**


	13. travels

**Usually I wouldn't put a fragment chapter so soon after the last one, but this was the only format I liked for getting the kids across the ice. That's a three day journey and I was NOT going to write it all out. That would get very boring very quickly and neither you nor me would be happy so. Fragment.**

 **Sorry it took so long! I had three tests this week. THREE.**

* * *

 **i. leaving**

"You be careful, kid," says Torino from the doorway. Izuku shuffles his feet in the snow and smiles at him.

"I will."

The sun is just rising, the sky turning from a wash of darkness to the brightness of a watercolor painting. They'd stayed the night, and Izuku is feeling much calmer than before.

"What will you do if Endeavor comes by?" asks Izuku. Shouto shifts uncomfortably behind him, still nervous about being betrayed.

"What kinda question is that?" snaps Torino indignantly, moving forward in a puff of air and swatting at Izuku's head. "I'll send him off on a goose hunt, of course. Now get going or you'll have to stay another night."

Izuku smiles. "Thank you."

Torino waves a hand through the air and scoffs. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. Seeya, kid."

A thought strikes Izuku even as he turns to leave. He waits to make sure the others aren't listening before turning back to his teacher's teacher.

"How will I find him?"

Torino sighs. "Stop worrying about it. You'll find him when you find him. Toshinori's got a sort of magnet to him, and if you're really the heir he seems to think you are, you'll find each other soon enough."

Izuku nods and bites his lip. "Okay," he says to the snow at his feet, and turns away.

"And kid?"

"Yes?"

"Good luck."

* * *

 **ii. sunrise**

"I always loved the sunrise," says Shouto, without any preamble. Behind him, the sun sits low on the horizon like a melting pat of butter, creating a halo around his head.

"Yeah?" says Izuku, because he's too dumbstruck to say anything else.

"Yeah. It was one thing Endeavor could never take away."

Izuku hums softly. "It is nice, isn't it. I always thought it looked like an eternity."

"An eternity?"

"Yeah. A cycle that'll continue forever. Something that will never end."

"Actually, the sun will eventually expand into a red giant and swallow the Earth," interjects Tenya, overhearing and unable to resist the temptation to distribute knowledge. "It will then collapse into a white dwarf before eventually dying out and theoretically becoming a black dwarf."

Ochako bumps him with her shoulder. "Oh, come on, Tenya. Leave science aside for a minute and just look at the sunrise."

Tenya frowns at her before turning his gaze to the sunrise. Light glints off of his glasses and dances across the snow.

"It is rather enjoyable," he admits.

Something warm slips into Izuku's palm, and he looks down to find Shouto's hand in his. The other boy smiles at him, a small, soft thing, before looking back towards the sun.

"It really is beautiful, isn't it?" says Shouto quietly.

"Yeah," agrees Izuku, and he's not talking about the sunrise anymore. "It really is."

* * *

 **iii. nostalgia**

"What do you miss the most about the Before?" asks Ochako as they sit around the fire.

"What?" growls Kacchan.

"Come on! I'm curious." She smiles even wider, lips parting around all of her teeth. "I'll go first. It's kinda silly, but I miss television. Also I miss indoor heating."

There's a pause, and Ochako thinks maybe they're just going to leave her hanging. Then Izuku, reliable as always, jumps in with his answer.

"I miss not having cold feet," he says, wrinkling his nose slightly. "And...I miss people. I used to just go out and watch them, all their little differences and the way they used their Kosei."

Charming, as she'd expect from him. Next she turns her grin on Tenya. "Tenya, you go next! What do you miss?"

Tenya takes a moment to think about it, frowning slightly. He's been serious for as long as she can remember; he attacks everything he does with an equal level of intensity, and Ochako has to wonder if he was that way before the ice. The end of the world has a way of changing people, but Ochako suspects he's always been intense. Otherwise, he wouldn't be Tenya.

"I miss school," he says, and Ochako is absolutely not surprised. "And the concept of having a future. I used to think I'd join the military one day, like my brother. But now…"

The atmosphere darkens, and Ochako moves quickly to disrupt it. "Kacchan! Your turn!"

"The fuck did you just call me?"

"Kacchan? Isn't that what Izuku calls you?"

He makes a sound in the back of his throat that sounds a bit like a bear. "It's _Bakugou_. _Katsuki Bakugou_."

"Ok, fine! Katsuki, what do you miss about the Before?"

Katsuki huffs, annoyed, and at first Ochako thinks he's not going to answer. "I miss having free range," he says eventually. "I used to be able to roam around however I wanted, but now it's too dangerous." He hunches his shoulders, looking away with a sour expression on his face. "And curry. I guess."

Ochako smiles at him encouragingly. "Ok! Now how about you, Shouto?"

Shouto is silent. He looks thoughtful, and sad.

"I miss the beach," he begins slowly, but at his next words Ochako feels her heart break. "I miss my mother. And I miss being a child."

"But you're free now," says Izuku. "We can find your mother again!"

Shouto smiles, small and sad. "Yeah," he says, eyes glistening. "I guess we can."

* * *

 **iv. follow**

Izuku stops in his tracks.

"Ochako," he says, frowning. "I thought you said you were going to leave after we made it to the trade center."

Ochako turns her head over her shoulder, wisps of mouse-brown hair dancing about in the icy wind. "Oh, that," she says, and shrugs. "I meant to, but everything moved so quickly that I didn't really have the chance."

Tenya nods, slowing slightly so that he's in step with Izuku. "I also never intended to accompany you," he says. "But with everything that happened, I got swept up."

Guilt burns in Izuku's stomach and he looks away. "I'm sorry," he murmurs into the collar of his jacket.

"Don't be!" laughs Ochako. "I kinda suspected this would happen. You've got this gravity to you, you know? And usually I know all about escaping gravity, but yours is so strong that I knew from the start I'd end up coming with you. That's what I told my parents, anyway."

Izuku looks up, eyebrows rising in surprise. "You did?"

"Yep! I said I'd try to be home, but I didn't know for sure how long I would be, so they know it's probably going to be a while. I have to get you to the city, at least."

Tenya places a strong hand on Izuku's shoulder. "My brother Tensei is smart. He will figure out what happened and tell my parents. Everything's alright."

Izuku eyes are beginning to sting, and he can't tell if it's from the cold or his emotions.

"Thank you," he says, voice wobbling slightly. "Thank you."

* * *

 **v. remorse**

"What's with that face?" says Bakugou, voice quiet but rough. Shouto glances over, eyebrows pulling together just slightly.

"What?"

"You're looking gloomy. It's pathetic."

"Why do you care?"

Bakugou huffs and forces his hands deeper into his pockets. "I don't."

"Then why are you here? I thought you hated me."

Red eyes peer up towards the sky, gray and overcast. Light snowfall lands in spindly clumps on the boy's sand-blond hair.

"You make him happy. He's never...I haven't seen him happy like that in a while."

Shouto frowns. "It would help if you would stop shouting at him. He told me about your childhood together."

Bakugou sighs, uncharacteristically mellow. His eyes, usually so full of anger, almost look sad.

"Maybe I made some mistakes, when I was young," he says, like admitting it hurts him more than anything. "And maybe now I'm trying to make up for them."

"You could apologize," suggests Shouto quietly.

Bakugou's pride seems to have returned, because a few loose sparks pop around the exposed skin of his face. Without looking at Shouto, and without another word, he storms away.

* * *

 **vi. stars**

Up ahead, the sky is purple with the midnight of a third day. The world is cold, and they should have stopped to rest, but they know they are near and had decided to forge on instead.

There's a bank of ice in front of them, reaching up in a glistening sheet to touch the horizon. Beyond it, the world drops away.

At first, none of them realize its significance.

Then Ochako reaches the edge.

The ice crunches beneath her boots and Ochako stops, mouth dropping. The world slopes down from here into a basin, and at the bottom of the basin—

"Oh," says Ochako.

Stars.

* * *

 **vii. arrival**

"We're here," says Ochako, breathless. Izuku steps forward and peers over the edge, and suddenly he forgets how to speak.

"Wow," is all he can say. "Wow."

For there before them, gleaming with hundreds of lights and wonderfully alive, is the city of Yuuei.

* * *

 **uh. nothing really happened in this chapter. sorry. stuff will start picking up again soon, i promise.**

 **I HAVE A QUESTION FOR YOU BEFORE YOU LEAVE! I'm thinking about starting a tumblr ask blog for this au, centering around Izuku and Shouto but including appearances from the other characters. It will be using my art and your asks, but I need to know if there's any interest before I make it. I'm not going to start an ask blog if there won't be any asks. Please give me your input in the comments or in my tumblr inbox! (I am coffeedoodle tumblr . com)**

 **^^^^please please please PLEASE answer that. Be brutally honest. Yes or no. I won't be offended if it's no, I just don't like not getting any answer at all.**


	14. city

**guys guys guys i really like this chapter and i'm really excited about the next few chapters aaaah**

 **ALSO! The ask box is a go! Go to ask-icefall . tumblr . com and send me your questions, your comments, or your miscellaneous keyboard smashes! I will answer with a drawing of the Icefall kids, in character and everything!**

 **I may not answer right away though. Art takes a while. I'll get around to your ask eventually.**

* * *

Walking into Yuuei is surreal. With every footstep, Izuku's heart rises in his throat. He doesn't know what to feel. It's overwhelming: the lights, the sounds, the people, the memories. It's a rush of color and movement and it takes him back to a time when things were simpler, when his life made sense and the world was whole.

"This is insane," says Ochako quietly. Izuku nods in agreement, because it _is_ insane. Yuuei is, more than anything, so profoundly _alive_ that it's almost surreal. The inn back at Ochako's village had had nothing on this.

Shouto takes a step closer. His face is blank but his eyes are scared.

"Hey," says Izuku under his breath. "Are you okay?"

Shouto meets his gaze and holds it for a moment before replying. "I...yes. I think so."

Izuku nods. "Okay."

"Hey! Watch it!"

Izuku turns; behind him, Kacchan is growling furiously at a frightened looking boy a few years younger than them. From what Izuku can tell, it looks like the boy had bumped into Kacchan and spilled a bucket of snow all over his front. Kacchan looks furious.

"Um. Sorry, sir, I'm sorry," mumbles the boy, reaching out with tentative hands to brush the snow from Kacchan's front. Kacchan snarls at him and pushes him away.

"Don't fucking touch me. What are you doing carrying a bucket of snow around, shithead?"

The boy flinches. "I was...we were gonna make a snowman."

"Well next time, _watch where the fuck you're going_ ," snaps Kacchan. The snow is already steaming on his shirt, plumes of smoke rising from his hair and the faint scent of burning cloth filling the air. The boy mumbles another apology before grabbing his now-empty bucket and running off.

Izuku chews on the inside of his lip. He should say something, he really should, but—

"Hey there, friend! That was kind of uncalled for, don'tcha think?"

They turn as a group. The voice, loud and energetic, is not one Izuku recognizes; it's coming from a boy his own age, with violently red hair and a shark-like grin. He'd been under the awning of a nearby shop during the whole exchange and is now approaching with his hands shoved casually into his pockets.

"The fuck did you say?" snaps Kacchan.

The newcomer raises his hands placatingly and shrugs. "All I'm saying is, that wasn't very manly, was it?"

" _Manly_?"

Tenya steps forward, pushing his glasses further up his nose as he does so. "He has a point, Bakugou, although I wouldn't have used those exact words. That child simply forgot to watch where he was going. It didn't require you to shout at him like that."

Kacchan rounds on him, glaring. "Shut up, _Four-eyes_."

"Hey, man, calm down," says the newcomer, somehow still smiling. He's beginning to remind Izuku of Ochako; he seems completely unfazed in the face of Kacchan's usual violent bluster. "It's not a big deal. I'm just saying maybe you should try being a little nicer."

" _I'll show you nicer_ —"

Izuku lets out a nervous chuckle and moves to intervene. Shouto's hand reaches for him and latches onto his shoulder with a vise-like grip, cold as ice even through the layers of cloth. Izuku risks a glance behind and sees that his friend has the hood of his parka pulled low over his head and his eyes are downcast so that his face is hidden in shadow. He's impossible to distinguish, and it's very unlikely that anyone would recognize him, even supposing Endeavor had somehow managed to travel this far ahead of them.

There's the sound of a small explosion and a puff of smoke. Oh, right. Kacchan.

"Ah, sorry about Kacchan, he's just...um...anyway, we should, uh. We should be going, shouldn't we? Haha. Uh. Yes, we need to, we need to find a place to stay. So we should get going! Before all the places close." He turns to the stranger and tries to make his smile look a little less nervous. "Thank you for. Um. Yeah."

The newcomer's crimson eyebrows soar up his forehead. "Oh, are you looking for a place to stay?"

"Um—"

"Yes!" exclaims Ochako, bouncing forward and smiling wide. "Do you know one?"

The newcomer's eyes light up at her enthusiasm. "Yeah! I actually work at an inn! Come on, I'll take you there!"

"Great!"

Izuku exchanges a glance with Shouto. The other boy gives him a slight, almost imperceptible nod, and Izuku inhales deeply.

"Okay, then," he says under his breath. "Let's go."

* * *

"Oh," says the red-haired boy. "I never introduced myself, did I? The name's Eijirou. Eijirou Kirishima." He shoots a grin over his shoulder, unfaltering in his cheeriness. "What are your guys' names?"

Something bright bubbles in Ochako's stomach. Izuku and his friends are nice, and of course she'll always love Tenya, but it feels like forever since she's had someone who'd be willing to just laugh with her. It's been a heavy few days, emotion-wise, and Eijirou's shining positivity is like a breath of fresh air. It gets tiring, trying to keep an entire group of people afloat.

Maybe now she has help. Maybe now she won't have to lift their spirits on her own.

"I'm Ochako Uraraka," she introduces. "It's really nice to meet you!"

"So are you guys new in town?" asks Eijirou. Ochako nods enthusiastically.

"Yep! I actually didn't know there _was_ a city here until recently. Tenya over there runs a trading post; he told us."

Tenya catches her pointing and drifts closer. "Have you been to Yuuei before?" asks Eijirou, and Tenya nods.

"Only once a year for a supply run. We're three days from here, so it's not worth the risk to come often. Mostly I just make runs around south Endeavor, and occasionally the northern Yuuei settlements."

"Tenya, was it?" says Eijirou, offering his hand to shake. Tenya takes it with a nod.

"You work at an inn?"

"Yep! It's pretty nice, too, if I do say so myself. I work there with a few friends of mine. The owners are really cool, too." Eijirou's face lights up and his steps begin to bounce slightly. "I think you'll like it there!"

"Great!" cheers Ochako. She dances backwards a few steps and pokes Izuku in the arm. He startles, and the almost offended expression on his face sends bubbles of laughter up Ochako's throat. "Izuku, cheer up! You too, Shouto!" She forces her grin wider—though it isn't all that hard at the moment—and moves over to Katsuki. "Hey, same for you! We have a nice place to stay, and already we've met someone nice!"

Katsuki stares at her like she's lost her mind. "The fuck is wrong with you?"

"Eijirou's great! Go on, make a friend for once!" Ochako latches onto his arm with both hands and bodily shoves him in Eijirou's direction. The Yuuei native raises an eyebrow at her and she sends him a thumbs up, trying to hide her giggles.

"You're enjoying this," says Tenya. Ochako turns her head towards him and settles down a bit, old snowflakes fluttering down around her feet as they are released from the wind she hadn't realized she'd stirred up.

"Yeah." She steps closer to him so that their arms are brushing, the contact comforting. "I mean, I love home, and I love my parents, but it's been a while since I've been somewhere new, you know? It's just been the same people and the same place for the last seven years."

Tenya nods. "I understand."

"I mean, you do deliveries, so you get to see people, but I'm just sorta...stuck, you know?"

"I know."

Ochako shakes herself with a sigh and glances over her shoulder at Izuku and Shouto. "I hope they're okay."

Tenya follows her gaze and frowns. "Why wouldn't they be? Didn't Izuku say he likes people?"

"Yeah, but saying it and meaning it are two different things. He didn't even know my village existed, let alone a city. And from what they've told us, Shouto's been isolated for _years_. Aren't you worried they might get overwhelmed?"

Tenya reaches up with one hand and pushes his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. "I suppose that is a concern. We'll just have to keep an eye on them and hope for the best."

"How long will that last? I don't feel good about leaving them, but we can't stay with them forever."

A beat of silence. Their feet crunch on the snow and conversation surrounds them. Up ahead, Katsuki is sulking while Eijirou talks excitedly at him, and behind them Izuku is saying something to Shouto that's too quiet for Ochako to hear.

"I think," says Tenya at last. "That we'll just have to see how things go."

* * *

True to Eijirou's words, it is a very nice inn. Standing at two stories high, it is made of expertly hewn wood and emits a cheery sort of feeling. A yellow awning hangs over the doorway, and when they walk beneath it, the light cast by the lanterns above filters through warmly.

That's one difference about the city; even though it is night, the old-fashioned oil street lamps and lanterns by every doorway illuminate the street, chasing the shadows back and pushing away some of the creeping chill of nighttime. It is so very different from the castle, with its cold stone walls and overwhelming darkness.

Shouto pulls his scarf tighter around his neck. Despite the welcoming feel of Yuuei's streets, he can't help but think of the last time he'd stayed in an inn. The last thing he wants is a repeat of those events.

The fact that that's extremely likely doesn't make him feel any better.

" _It'll be different, this time,"_ Izuku had promised him quietly. " _Eijirou seems really nice, and there's no way En—your father could have made it here before us. And in any case, there's so many people here that it'll be easy to blend in. I mean, look at Eijirou! His hair's as red as yours! You'll be fine, I promise."_

" _And what if it's not fine?"_ Shouto had asked, in such a low murmur that he hadn't thought he'd been heard.

" _Then we'll leave,"_ Izuku had replied, as if it were really that simple. " _We'll keep running until your father can't reach us. We'll go as far as we need."_

And Shouto hadn't said what he'd thought, that Izuku would have to leave now, and not to run away. Very, very soon now, Izuku is going to have to go home.

The thought makes Shouto cringe. Something inside him, something he'd thought long since iced-over, shifts uncomfortably, and it feels a little too much like flame for Shouto to identify it as anything other than fear.

But he pushes it down. Right now, he has other concerns, like the roomful of people he'd just walked into.

There's a moment of déjà vu as the door swing shut behind him, and frost creeps across his fingers beneath the fabric of his gloves. But unlike the last inn, conversation does not halt at their entry. The people inside continue with their merriment as if the door had not opened at all.

Izuku's hand slips into his and squeezes. Shouto swallows hard and catches his friend's gaze for a heartbeat, hoping to convey his strength.

Izuku smiles.

"It's going to be fine," he mouths, and for a moment Shouto almost believes it.

At first glance, the counter serving doubly as a reception desk and a bar is unmanned. When they approach it, however, Eijirou raps his fist on the counter.

"Hey, anybody here?"

There's a groaning sound, like somebody being woken from the dead, and then a disheveled looking figure rises from where they'd apparently been lying on the floor behind the counter.

"Kirishima," says the man. He appears to be in his mid-thirties, though it's hard to tell around the massive bags under his eyes. His hair, black and tangled, hangs loosely around his face and shoulders, ungroomed and unshorn as if he'd simply been too tired to manage it. "What is this?"

"They're new!" replies Eijirou brightly. "They don't have a place to stay and I figured we must have a few rooms open!"

The man levels his bored gaze on each of them before returning to the red-haired boy before him. The hair on Shouto's neck prickles as it sweeps across him, and he has to clench his hands into fists to resist the temptation to run.

"We have a few," agrees the man. "But not enough for all of them. They're going to have to share."

"That's fine!" says Izuku, amiable as always. "We're okay with sharing. We'd just like to have a roof over our heads."

"Hmm," says the man. He appears to be inspecting Izuku for a moment, and Shouto fights the urge to step in between them. Then the man's gaze drops and he pulls a book from under the counter. He doesn't speak for a moment as he scans the pages, before returning it to its spot and withdrawing two pairs of keys.

"Rooms 6 and 10," he says.

"Great!" says Eijirou, and takes the keys before turning around and gesturing for them to follow. "Come on, I'll show you where they are."

Shouto nods, face still downcast, shadows still hanging in his eyes, and moves with the rest of the group.

"Kirishima," calls the man before they can get too far, and the group stops. Eijirou turns over his shoulders and raises his brows questioningly.

"Yeah?"

"You don't need to come in tomorrow."

"Oh." Eijirou lifts a hand into a thumbs up and nods. "Ok. I wanted to help show these guys around town anyway."

"Fine."

With that, the man disappears behind the counter again, and Eijirou resumes walking towards the stairs.

"What was that about?" asks Izuku, voice tentative. Eijirou glances to the side.

"Oh, it's nothing."

There's something about the way he says it that makes Shouto suspicious. It's almost too casual, like he's purposefully trying to divert their attention. So far, however, Eijirou has given them no reason to think he is untrustworthy, so Shouto reluctantly decides to let it slide.

Rooms 6 and 10 are across the hall and a few doors down from each other. Eijirou points them out and informs them that each has two beds; they're an uneven number, so someone's going to have to share.

"I'm not sharing," growls Bakugou, and plops down on the bed nearest the door. Shouto does not fail to notice that despite his glower, he still waited to see which room Izuku would be in and followed after him.

Bakugou does not hate Izuku as much as he claims, Shouto thinks. His anger, though real to an extent, is boosted by a hateful facade. It's a shield, and behind it, perhaps, is an urge to protect and a thick pool of guilt.

Shouto looks at the remaining bed. He looks at Izuku.

"I guess we're sharing."

Izuku nods, and for some reason he looks flustered. Shouto can't fathom why; they've slept together before, pressed against each other on the couch in the castle. There'd been significantly less room between them then than there will be in this bed.

"Hey," calls Bakugou from where he's already burrowed under the covers. "Shut up and go to sleep before I set both of you on fire!"

Shouto shares another glance with Izuku. Then they move towards the bed.

They end up lying back to back. They aren't touching, but Shouto can feel the warmth of Izuku's body regardless. They don't speak, and for a while Shouto thinks Izuku is already asleep.

"Goodnight, Shouto," whispers Izuku into the silence. Shouto rolls over so that he is looking up towards the ceiling, and for a moment, his arm brushes against Izuku's back.

He feels warm.

"Goodnight."

* * *

The girl crouches on the rooftop. Moonlight turns her into nothing more than a silhouette and glints prettily off of her knives. Pretty little things, pretty metal to cut pretty scars.

Pretty like blood. The girl giggles.

"You're a pretty thing too, aren't you?" she croons into the night. Down below, a boy sleeps soundly, warmer than he has been but not quite as safe as he thinks. "Pretty boy. I bet some scars would make you prettier, though."

An owl calls in the night. The girl straightens and spins once, fingers trailing through the air like frayed pieces of cloth or reaching, grasping claws.

"Better go tell the boss before he gets mad. Maybe he'll let me have the pretty, pretty boy. Maybe he'll let me make him prettier."

With one last laugh, high and shrill, the girl leaps from the rooftops and disappears into the shadows.

* * *

The morning dawns cool and bright, the scent of breakfast seeping through the cracks in the floor and setting Izuku's stomach grumbling.

They rejoin Ochako and Tenya in the hallway and head downstairs as a group. Shouto is at Izuku's back, hood pulled low over his head, and Izuku remembers how nice it had been to sleep at his side. It had felt warm and safe; it had felt a little bit like home.

Izuku clamps down on that feeling. Now is not the time to be harboring those thoughts.

Downstairs, the inn is bustling. Several of the tables have been pushed together into a line in the middle of the room where they serve as a buffet. Eijirou spots them from across the room and waves enthusiastically before pointing at the counter.

"Pay there!" he shouts, and goes back to shoveling his face with food.

The man from last night is nowhere to be seen. In his place is a lanky blond man, hair pulled up into a bun and eyes gleaming blue behind triangular glasses. He grins widely as they approach.

"Hey! You must be those new guests Kirishima was talking about! Welcome to Yuuei and the Present Day Inn! 'No day like today,' that's our motto! How'd you guys sleep?"

Izuku blinks, a bit stunned by the onslaught of words. "Um. We slept alright. Thank you."

"Great!" smiles the man. "I'm Hizashi, it's nice to meet you! You'll be wanting breakfast, I suppose?"

Izuku nods. "Uh, yeah. For five of us."

Hizashi gives him a thumbs up and grabs five trays from the stack on the counter. "You got pay, kiddo?"

Izuku pauses. Right. Payment. Usually he trades his plants for what he needs, but something tells him he shouldn't go around showing off his Kosei like that. And besides, from the looks of it, Yuuei uses some sort of currency rather than relying on trade, which makes sense for a community this size.

Unfortunately, that means Izuku has no means of paying for today's breakfast or even last night's stay.

"Um…"

Hizashi waves a hand at him. "Don't worry about it. This one's on the house. Want to make sure you newcomers feel welcome! You are going to have to sum up some money if you're gonna stay here any longer, though, unfortunately."

Izuku flushes. "Oh! Um, thank you!"

"No problem, kid! Go get some food, it's delicious!"

Hizashi proves right; the food _is_ delicious. And warm, too; it's nice to eat something that isn't out of a can. It reminds Izuku strongly of home, and he has to push aside a wave of nostalgia at the thought. Now is not the time to get homesick, not when Shouto still needs him.

A small voice in the back of his mind points out that he has to head home eventually, and he shoves that aside too. He wants to go home, yes, but not if it means leaving Shouto. He _never_ wants to leave Shouto.

The thought makes him feel lightheaded, though he finds it isn't surprising. Izuku shakes his head and turns back to his breakfast.

"So I was thinking I could show you guys around town, what do you say?" says Eijirou brightly. "You've never been, right? I know the city really well! I could show you all the good places to go!"

"We do need to restock on supplies," says Tenya, logical as ever. "Maybe I'll even bring some back with me to the trade center so I don't have to come all the way back so soon."

"And I want to see the city, anyway!" agrees Ochako, smiling. "My village is tiny compared to this!"

"Ochako, your village is tiny compared to anything," points out Tenya. Ochako laughs and punches him lightly in the arm.

"What if we break into groups?" suggests Izuku, smiling slightly. It's nice, to be surrounded by laughter. "Those of us who want to restock on supplies can stop at the market, assuming there is one, and those of us who want to see the city can keep going with Eijirou."

"Sounds great!" says Eijirou. "Hey, I never got all of your names. You're Ochako, right? And you're Tenya?" The two in question nod, and he directs his gaze towards the rest of them. "What about you guys?"

"I'm Izuku," says Izuku. "Izuku Midoriya."

Eijirou's gaze moves to Shouto, his smile faltering as he finds the boy's face still cast in shadow. "You?"

"Shouto," says Shouto curtly, and does not offer up any other words.

"Um...okay, nice to meet you Shouto." Eijirou visibly shakes himself before leaning towards Kacchan and elbowing him lightly in the side. "How 'bout you, shouty-boy?"

"None of your business, Shitty-Hair."

Eijirou pouts, but Izuku can tell immediately that he's not actually offended. "Fine, guess I'll just call you Grumpy, then. Nice to meet you, Grumpy."

"Oh for fuck's sake—it's Katsuki! Katsuki Bakugou. Now shut up, will you?"

Izuku stops paying attention after that, instead choosing to lose himself in the warmth and comfort of the inn. He's been missing this for a long, long time, even if the last time he'd come close had ended in him being kidnapped and used as bait. But here, with the good food in his mouth and Shouto's presence by his side, with Ochako's laughter and Tenya's light words and Eijirou's teasing of a slightly-less-irritated than he seems Kacchan, Izuku feels safe.

"Anyway, we'd better get going if we're going to see the whole city," says Eijirou once they've finished their meals. "And whoever's going to the market should get there before all the stalls sell out."

Tenya frowns. "Is that likely?"

"Yeah. I mean, not completely, but the good stuff disappears really quickly. Oh, and they do accept trade there, so don't worry about not having money."

Izuku flushes and looks away, fingering the packet of seeds in his pocket. He'll have to go find somewhere private to grow them, and probably a tray to put them in, but he assumes vegetables are as valuable here as anywhere.

"I'm not going," declares Kacchan, leaning back against the wall and putting his feet up on the table. "I'm staying here and napping."

"Aw, come on, Grumpy!" Eijirou fake-whines. "Come out with us!"

"No! And I told you not to call me that!"

As they continue to bicker, Shouto leans into his side and Izuku glances over in surprise. "Shouto?"

"I'll stay too. I don't think it's wise for me to be out in public very much."

Izuku bites his lip, ashamed for not having thought of that. "I can stay if you want—"

"No. You go. Have fun." Beneath his hood, Shouto smiles faintly and reaches out a hand to brush Izuku's arm. "Tell me about it when you get back."

"Okay," says Izuku, sighing. "Okay."

* * *

If Izuku had thought the inn was alive, the market is something else entirely. People roam about, numbering in the hundreds, all talking and laughing and pushing past each other. Sellers call out from stands, the noisy sound of haggling rising from all around. The air is filled with the intermingling scents of food and animals and perfumes, and despite the hard-packed snow of the street the atmosphere seems warm.

"Do you mind if we split up?" asks Tenya, nearly shouting so that can be heard. "I have a lot I need to get and I don't know how long it'll take."

Izuku nods. "Yeah, that seems smart. Meet back here at midday?" The sun is clearly visible above, so that should be an easy time to gauge.

"Alright."

"Do you need…" Izuku nods towards the tray of plants in his arms and raises an eyebrow. "Do you have anything to trade with?"

Tenya pats his pocket and smiles. "I have Yuuei currency, don't worry. I grabbed a bunch back at the center in case we had to leave in the hurry."

"You predicted we'd have to leave in a hurry?"

"I suspected it, yes. But that's beside the point. We had better get moving if we want to find all we need."

"Right," nods Izuku. "Ok, see you later! Good luck finding anything!"

"The same to you!"

* * *

"No," insists Izuku. "Look, I grew this myself, I know it's top quality. This is worth way more than that."

The seller shakes her head. "Two carrots for a six-pack bundle of soup? I think not, young man. Six carrots for six cans. No less than that."

"Oh, come on—you know as well as I do that these are much more valuable that some canned soup! They're _fresh!_ "

"Fine. Five carrots."

"Two!"

"Five!"

"Two!"

"Five!"

"Three?"

"Sold!"

And with that, Izuku walks away three carrots poorer and six cans of soup richer. The basket he'd purchased earlier sits heavy in his arms, and he cranes back his neck to check the position of the sun. He's got everything he needs, but he still has about a half an hour left and there's three heads of broccoli remaining in his basket, so maybe he'll swing back to that bakery he'd seen earlier. The scent wafting out of its open windows had made Izuku's mouth water, but he'd moved on in favor of more necessary supplies.

"Maybe I'll bring back some pastries for everyone," Izuku thinks aloud. "And maybe I'll get a cake or something for Eijrou to thank—"

An arm, heavy and uncomfortable, lands across his shoulders, and it takes all of Izuku's control to prevent the basket from plummeting to the ground.

"Um," stutters Izuku, delicately trying to pull away, but the stranger's arm pins him in place. Fear, thick and inexplicable, spreads through his gut. "Ex—excuse me?"

"Hello, there," says a voice that is as dry and poisonous as a snake's. "Don't be afraid. I'm a friend."

"What do you want?"

The stranger leans in, his face inches from Izuku's neck and his breath hot against Izuku's skin.

"Come with me. Let's have a little talk."

* * *

The stranger pulls him into a deserted alley. Beyond, the market bustles on, oblivious to Izuku's predicament. His hands shake on the handles of the basket, but he tries to keep it from showing.

"Um," says Izuku once they've reached the shadows. He has to swallow before continuing; his mouth is as dry as paper. "What—what did you want to talk about?"

"Oh, it's nothing," says the stranger, pulling away slightly but keeping one hand on his wrist. His fingers are tight and claw-like against Izuku's skin, so tight that his hand is starting to lose circulation. "Just a little something about our mutual friend."

Izuku swallows again, and it's difficult. His tongue feels heavy in his mouth. "What mutual friend?"

"You know," rasps the stranger, and from beneath the shadow of his hood Izuku can see his lips stretch apart into a horrible, terrifying grin. "The _Ice King._ "

At that, Izuku reels back, and this time he does drop the basket. His movement is so sudden that it seems to surprise the stranger, because his grasp slips. Izuku backs away until he can't anymore, the cold stone of the building pressing into his back.

"Who are you?" asks Izuku, and he's not proud of the way his voice trembles. He raises his hands into the air and curls them into fists.

The stranger's arms swing loosely at his sides, every line of his body reading as casual. "I am the one who will take this world into the future," he says, still grinning. "I'm the next Big Boss."

"Wha—"

"And," continues the stranger, ignoring him. "I am not alone."

There's a staticky sort of sound, and the shadows in the corners of the alley grow and swell, until a clump of them pull away. They begin to take shape, and then the alleyway is much more crowded than before and Izuku finds that he is surrounded.

"Ooh, he's even prettier up close," says a girl from off to his left, knives glinting in her hands and a manic smile spread across her face. "Can I cut him, Shigaraki? Can I, can I, can I?"

'Shigaraki' seems to think about this for a moment. "Alright, Toga," he says. "But only just a little."

"Tomura Shigaraki," says a man who is still somehow cast in shadow, despite the fact that he's standing in a patch of direct sunlight. "This is him?"

"Yeah," says Shigaraki, still smiling, and now he's moving closer _oh no—_ "The Ice King's little friend."

Izuku raises his fists higher in the air and spreads his stance just a bit wider. "St-stay back!"

"Don't worry, Izuku Midoriya," says the shadowed man. "We mean you no harm. We just need to take you back with us."

"N-no."

He's surrounded. They know about Shouto, they know that he's here, they'll use him to get to Shouto and that—that can't happen. Izuku slides sideways along the wall, looking for an opening, but there's nothing. He's surrounded on all sides.

"Come on, little boy," says Shigaraki in a sing-song tone of voice. "Let's do this the easy way."

And then he _moves_.

In the blink of an eye there's a hand on Izuku's arm. He jerks back and lashes out with his fist, knuckles colliding with soft flesh. The hood falls away from Shigaraki's face, revealing dry, scarred skin and long blueish hair. There's a red mark already forming on his cheek from where Izuku hit him.

"You—you little _brat_ ," snarls Shigaraki, and Izuku realizes he made a mistake. He stumbles back and bumps straight into the girl—Toga?—who drapes her arms around his neck and purrs in his ear. There's a glint of metal and a sharp blade is pressed against his throat.

"Hey there, pretty boy," Toga cooes. "You'd look even prettier with some scars." The knife flashes upwards and pain flashes across Izuku's cheek. The cut is shallow from what he can tell, but it's deep enough that warm blood drips down his face and lands in the snow, strikingly crimson against the white. Izuku throws his head back so that his skull collides with Toga's face, and then uses her momentary weakness to slip out of her grasp.

"Sorry about this, kiddo," says a large figure as she steps in front of him, wielding a large stick of metal. Izuku tries to sidestep, but he's not fast enough to avoid her when pieces of metal peel away from the stick and wrap around his arms.

"Magne! Hold him!" yells Shigaraki, running forward. "Kurogiri!"

"Yes, Tomura," says the shadowed man, moving towards Izuku in a swirl of movement. Izuku's not sure how, but this man must be the one who manipulated the shadows in such a way as to bring them here, and it's not a stretch to think he could bring Izuku back to wherever their lair is.

He can't have that. He can't let that happen.

Desperate, Izuku activates his Kosei. He knows it's a stupid move; revealing this power to them can only bring bad things. But he doesn't know what else to do. In a burst of energy, he reaches out along the metal, his own life force brushing up against Magne's, and then he _pulls_.

Magne stumbles, and the metal drops from his sides. Izuku turns tail and _runs_.

Another figure drops down in front of him, and Izuku skids to a stop. "Whoa, there," says the man, black mask obscuring his features. One hand reaches out towards the wall of the nearby building, and the stone pulls away, molding itself into the man's exact image once, twice, three times. Suddenly, there is not one man in Izuku's path, but four.

"No," gasps Izuku, and takes a step backwards.

A hand closes around his neck. He freezes in place.

"Hey, now," hisses Shigaraki's voice in his ear. "You have quite the interesting little Kosei there, don't you?"

"Tomura—" calls Kurogiri—a warning—but it's too late. Something hums through the air, low and dark, and black energy curls around Shigaraki's fingers. Izuku shivers as it sinks into his skin and then he realizes what it's doing.

It's pulling at his life force.

No. No, no, no.

Izuku's Kosei flares up in response, desperately clinging onto his life even as it seeps into Shigaraki's veins. He feels himself weakening, legs trembling underneath him and black spots dancing in his vision.

"Hey!"

The voice is loud, angry, and achingly familiar. Relief floods through Izuku even as Shigaraki's hand leaves his neck and he falls to the ground, unable to hold his own weight.

Through bleary eyes, Izuku looks up towards the end of the alleyway. Tenya is standing there, wind swirling angrily around him and snow lifting from the ground to dance through his hair. Standing on either side of him are Ochako and Eijirou.

"What's going on here?"

"Nothing," snarls Shigaraki, scratching frantically at his neck in what must be a nervous tick. "Go away, little children."

"No," says Tenya, and takes a step forward. "No, I won't abandon my friend."

"Guys," wheezes Izuku, desperately pushing himself upward. "Guys, they're—"

"I'll go get help!" shouts Eijirou. Stone peels away from the walls and forms a shield in front of him. "Hold on!"

With that, he turns and runs, using the shield like a battering ram to push through the crowd.

That leaves Tenya and Ochako. It's just the three of them, just three teenagers, against the terrifying might of Shigaraki and his ilk.

The wind picks up, blowing through the alleyway and sending shivers down Izuku's spine.

"Get away from him," says Ochako, dashing forward.

And that's when the real fight begins.

* * *

 **kiri put on Unbreakable and body slammed his way into this chapter. he wasn't supposed to show up yet or even play as big of a role but all of a sudden boom. there he was.**

 **Do you know how close i was to naming the inn 'erasermic inn'? cuz it was really fucking close.**

 **Also: did i steal the concept of shadow travel from pjo? yes, i did, what're you gonna do about it? (no but seriously it just fit so well i couldn't NOT)**

 **Thanks for reading! Leave me a comment with your thoughts! Alternatively, stop by my tumblr (coffeedoodle) or ask the characters directly on the ask blog (ask-icefall)!**


	15. shadows

**HAPPY NEW YEAR! MAY YOUR 2018 BE A GOOD ONE!**

 **Here, have this chapter.**

 **ALSO GUESS WHAT? tuesyays ON TUMBLR MADE AN ART FOR THIS FIC! GO TO MY TUMBLR AND LOOK UNDER THE ICEFALL TAG IT'S THE MOST BEAUTIFUL THING I'VE EVER SEEN IN MY LIFE**

* * *

The smart thing to do would be to keep to the room, but Shouto has never been accused of having an overabundance of common sense. Or rather, he _has_ it, but often chooses to ignore it.

On the other hand, it could be argued that avoiding a room with Bakugou in it at all costs would be the very definition of common sense. Either way, Shouto decides almost immediately that he's going to stay downstairs in the common room.

"Hey, kiddo," says the man from earlier—Hizashi, Shouto remembers—as he plops down beside him. Shouto doesn't startle; the man had not been quiet about his approach. "How's it going?"

Shouto subtly pulls his hood lower over his head. "Good."

"Where'd your friends go?"

"Out."

Hizashi frowns and leans a little closer. Shouto shifts back uncomfortably. "How come you didn't go with them?"

Shouto just shrugs. He doesn't like being so close to this stranger. From what he can tell, Endeavor has not yet reached the city, and so the people of Yuuei do not know what's he's done, but he can't shake his wariness. There's something about this man that makes Shouto think he's more dangerous than he seems.

Hizashi opens his mouth to say something else, but in that moment the door opens with such sudden enthusiasm that it crashes into the wall and makes a bang that startles the entire room into silence. Every head, Shouto's included, turns toward the entranceway.

Standing framed against the background of the city street is Eijirou. He's panting and covered in sweat despite the cold. There's panic in his eyes.

Something hot and leaden settles in Shouto's gut, and he only distantly realizes he's standing.

The unkempt man from last night appears out of nowhere, looking much more alert than before. "Kirishima. What is it?"

Eijirou rushes forward and grasps the man's shoulders. His glance skitters over to Shouto for a moment before returning to the man before him. Hizashi has moved from Shouto's side and joined them, a concerned stream of words flying from his lips before the other man shoots him a look that silences him.

"There's a fight," gasps Eijirou at last. "The group I brought in last night. Izuku Midoriya and his friends. They—" He inhales deeply, whole body trembling with tension.

"They've been attacked!"

Shouto's heart leaps suddenly from his stomach to his throat and in an instant he's running. Someone shouts at him, but he ignores it, instead pushing himself harder, harder, _faster, you have to get there on time, you have to get to him—_

But where? He hadn't stopped to ask, _stupid, stupid,_ so where would—

The marketplace. Izuku had said he was going to the marketplace.

Shouto's eyes find signage almost immediately and he veers to the left. Ice prickles on his right cheek and steam rises on his left, but he can't seem to care about that right now.

If Izuku—

No. There's no time for those thoughts.

Shouto pushes on.

* * *

The fight begins with a rush of movement, and around Izuku the world seems to explode. Snow swirls around in an icy sheet as Ochako and Tenya bring the air sweeping around them, and Izuku has to squint against the ice crystals that land on his eyelashes.

"Let him go!" shouts Ochako, and takes a swing at Shigaraki. Shigaraki dodges and Izuku feels a scream lodge in his throat as yellowed fingers and pale, chapped skin reach for Ochako's neck. In a heartbeat, however, Tenya has appeared as if from nowhere and with a furious kick to the chest sends Shigaraki stumbling backwards.

"Izuku!" yells Tenya, glancing over for barely a moment as he dodges a punch from one of the earth clones. "Get up!"

There's a footstep beside Izuku's head and he rolls over just in time to avoid the knife aimed at his face. Even as it is, the blade clips his ear, and a hiss of pain escapes his clenched teeth as droplets of crimson scatter across the snow.

"Aw, come on, pretty boy," whines Toga, twirling the offending knife in her hands. Izuku scrambles to his feet, nearly falling from the rush of lightheadedness and the weakness of nearly losing the entirety of his life force, but catches himself at the last moment and backs away. Toga approaches slowly, eyes dancing between him and the blade. A few drops of his blood mar the metallic surface, and Izuku recoils in horror as she wipes it up with one long-nailed finger and brings it to her mouth.

"Mm," she cooes, grinning maniacally. "Tasty."

"G-get away."

"Aw, don't be shy, baby," smiles Toga. "Don't worry, I just want to give you a makeover. Just a little one. A few scars, maybe an eye—ow!"

Ochako has appeared behind her, and with one particularly enthusiastic punch has knocked her to the ground. "Izuku, pay attention!" she snaps, bringing her hands together in a rush of wind and sending Toga airborne. "We can't win this without you, so get your wits together!"

"R-right," stutters Izuku, and inhales deeply to steady himself. Shigaraki has a death Kosei, clearly, which is troubling enough as is, but what Izuku finds particularly unnerving is how similar it had felt to Life. No, not similar—the same. An exchange of life force. Giving and taking. And had he himself not taken life from Torino not a day earlier?

That feels important somehow. But for now, Izuku can use it to his advantage. He knows Life, has known it for years, so if Death is similar than he should be able to find its weaknesses. And if he can do that…

If he can do that maybe they can make it out of here alive.

"Think, Izuku," he mutters to himself, even as he dodges Magne's metal and sweeps a foot against her knees, tripping her badly enough that she falls. "What are his weaknesses?"

Shigaraki's weaknesses, if Izuku is right, are the same as his own.

When he uses Life, he has to be careful about the exchange. Give too much, he's dead. Take too much, the other person is dead. It's a delicate balance, though Shigaraki doesn't seem too terribly concerned about the latter.

What else?

Fire crackles past uncomfortably close and Izuku can feel the heat against his skin. For a moment, Izuku is a child again, and Kacchan is laughing proudly with blazing fists and sparks in his eyes. Then he blinks and the memory is gone, and a badly scarred man's flaming fingers are inches from touching his face.

Izuku panics and leaps backwards. A rush of adrenaline courses through his system and his Kosei rises with it, lashing out at the presence of the scarred man's life and drawing it towards him.

The fire sputters out and the man falls, wide-eyed, to his knees. Izuku gasps and shuts his Kosei off so quickly that it hurts.

"Dabi!" snarls Shigaraki from several yards away. "Watch him, you stupid fucking idiot!"

"Your...your Kosei," says Dabi, eyes narrowing. "It's like his."

"I didn't—" begins Izuku, but doesn't get the chance to finish, because Dabi is surging towards him with flames swirling about his fingertips. Izuku ducks underneath one handful of flame, but it's so close that he can smell the tips of his hair burning. Frantically he tries to smother them as he backs up a few feet.

He needs a moment. He needs to think, to come up with a plan, to—

He hadn't meant to use his Kosei.

 _He hadn't meant to use his Kosei._

The thing about Life is it's almost impossible to control. And if he can't control it, maybe…

Maybe Shigaraki can't control Death, either.

If Izuku can get him to overdo it, they'll be forced to retreat. Maybe they have a chance.

He just has to figure out _how_.

To his left, Ochako feints for the masked clone-maker's legs before launching herself over his head and grabbing for his ears. The wind rushes through her fingertips and suddenly he's toppling over, headed for the ground. A few feet away, Tenya hurtles towards Toga's right before changing course in the blink of an eye and kicking her left side instead.

Trickery. Trickery and distractions.

Izuku's main goal is to push Shigaraki to the point where he's unable to fight anymore. To do so, he needs to keep him fighting, and he needs to not die in the process.

"Izuku Midoriya!" shouts Shigaraki, and Izuku spins over his right shoulder to see the man approaching with rage in his eyes. "You are becoming a nuisance!"

He just needs to keep him talking. He can do that, right? He's good at talking.

There's a swirl of shadow in the corner of Izuku's eye and he throws himself forward, managing at the last second to turn the movement into a roll. When he gets to his feet, he takes one look at Kurogiri's burning yellow eyes and _runs_.

He runs straight for Shigaraki.

"Izuku!" shouts Ochako. "What are you doing?"

Izuku ignores her. He skids to a stop in front of Shigaraki and takes a breath to steal his nerves before curling his hands into fists and raising them before his body. "Shigaraki," he says, and for a moment it's as if the battle has dropped away. It's just the two of them now: Izuku and Shigaraki. Life and Death.

"Midoriya," hisses Shigaraki, and takes a single step forward. "You are far more interesting than anticipated. I don't like it. It makes you a _problem_."

Izuku shrugs his shoulders, feigning nonchalance. "Sorry about that. I've been told I'm a bit of a trouble magnet, so I guess that's what you get for coming near me."

Shigaraki cocks his head, lips pulled downwards into a frown. "I don't like your attitude."

"Well, I don't really like being attacked, but I guess we can't always have what we want, can we?"

"You little—" Shigaraki cuts himself off abruptly, one hand rising to scratch at the battered skin of his neck. "You're interesting. I don't know if I like you or hate you."

Izuku forces a laugh, even though he feels sick. "Maybe settle for casual tolerance and decide later? You could leave and think it over for a while. After all, you know where to find me. Clearly I don't have a lot of places left to run to."

Shigaraki's fingers pause on his neck and from underneath his fringe, Izuku can see his eyes narrowing. "You're witty," he says. "That's a useful skill."

Izuku hums his agreement. He's running out of things to say, and he has no idea how long it's been since the battle started. Hopefully Eijirou will be back with help soon, but if he's not Izuku is going to have to find a way to tire Shigaraki out.

"Speaking of skills," says Izuku slowly, knowing that every wrong word is a nail in his coffin. "You've got a pretty interesting one yourself."

"What?"

"Your Kosei."

"Ah." Shigaraki takes another step forward and lifts one hand in the air. Black energy crackles along his fingers, casting his face in an eerie, frightening light. His eyes glint maniacally outwards, and Izuku feels a shiver travel down his spine. "I see you've noticed. You like that, huh? Look familiar?"

Izuku swallows hard.

"No."

"Hm." Shigaraki moves forward again, until he's only two feet away. "You're lying."

"Maybe I am. Maybe I'm not. I can't say for sure that I've seen that Kosei before because I don't know what it is. Care to fill me in?"

The instant Izuku sees the smile that spreads across Shigaraki's face he knows he's made a mistake. But it's too late to take back the words, and Shigaraki is already lunging forward.

"How about a demonstration?" muses Shigaraki shrilly, and then his fingers close around Izuku's forearm.

It's the worst thing Izuku's ever felt. It's like ash and tar and poison, boiling under his skin like a bad dream. It sends prickles of ice all the way up his arm, and he can feel his fingers starting to go numb. The instant they touch, Shigaraki is chipping away at his life force, and unfortunately Izuku doesn't know if he can stop it.

His next movement is pure instinct, and that instinct is probably what saves his life. Izuku's Kosei responds ferociously, lashing out at the foreign energy and shoving it away rather than retreating. Given more thought, Izuku would probably have simply tried to hold onto his life force and build up defenses, but Shigaraki is stronger than he is; that strategy would have inevitably failed, as it had earlier.

As it is, a flash of red-green lightning swirls around Izuku's arm and _pushes_ , and then they are separated again.

Izuku backs away quickly, clutching his arm and breathing heavily. A few steps away, Shigaraki is laughing.

"That's what I thought," says Shigaraki breathlessly. "I got a taste of it earlier but I wasn't sure. You have Life, don't you?"

Izuku doesn't say anything. He doesn't need to.

"So I guess the great All Might found a successor after all. Did he ever tell you about his greatest failure?" Shigaraki stalks forward, both hands tensed at his sides and swirling with Death. "Did he ever tell you about the time he was beaten like a _dog_? Did you know the Great King _lost?_ "

Izuku can't stop the sharp intake of breath or the shaking of his fingers. Shigaraki grins.

"You didn't know. He never told you. Oh, that's good. You must have had so much faith in him, the almighty Toshinori Yagi! But he's got a shadow, you see? Every coin has its backside. Every chessboard has two colors."

Shigaraki stops less than a foot away and leans forward, still grinning maliciously. Izuku's back is against the wall and he can't retreat any further. He's trapped.

"Guess which color we are?" whispers Shigaraki.

Izuku squeezes his eyes shut. He was a fool to think he could win a fight with Shigaraki. Forget tiring the man out; if Shigaraki so much as touches him he'll die almost instantly. Shigaraki is a superior opponent, and against him Izuku doesn't even stand a chance.

He got cocky and now he's going to die.

"Izuku!"

His eyes fly open, and both he and Shigaraki turn their heads. All fighting stops for a moment as everyone turns to look.

The minute they make eye contact, Izuku's heart sinks. No. No no _no_.

"No," whispers Izuku.

For there, standing in the end of the alleyway, wreathed in ice and flame, is Shouto Todoroki.

* * *

The crowd parts around him, murmuring and shoving like a massive frightened wave. Some distant part of Shouto's mind wonders why they'd move for him, and moments later he notices that the entirety of his body is creeping with ice and lit up by flame. They fear him, he realizes, and it's an uncomfortable realization.

It makes him think of his father.

In any other circumstance, he would put out his flames and dampen his fury. But not now. Izuku is in danger, and Shouto has to get to him. If that means using intimidation to clear his path, so be it.

He won't lose Izuku. He won't.

 _But where…_

There's a burst of flame in the distance, and the marketplace fills with screams. Smoke billows out from the gap between two buildings, staining the blue of the sky with unnatural, ashy grayness. Shouto adjusts his course and runs impossibly faster. Before him, the ground turns slippery with ice, and behind him his flames create a draft of wind that propels him along his path.

He almost trips—more than once—but his desperate need to move forward keeps him upright.

The alleyway is dark, darker than it should be. Black smoke fills the air, gleaming white snowflakes dancing amidst the dirt of the ashes. More than that, though, the shadows seem larger, somehow, as if each one is an empty finger reaching out towards the alley's occupants.

Shouto's next breath is clogged with smoke. He coughs, and the air appears in a puff of steam.

"Hey, who're you?" shouts a masked man, flanked by what appear to be stone copies of himself. Shouto ignores him. He ignores the smoke and the fighting and the flames flickering against everything they can grab hold of.

Because there's Izuku.

He's in trouble. His back is pressed against a wall, eyes squeezed shut, hands raised uselessly in front of his face as some sort of half-hearted shield. In front of him is a man who Shouto has never seen before, but who radiates such pure malice that Shouto just _knows_ he moves with the intent to kill.

Shouto's heart rises to clog his throat. He can hardly breathe.

"Izuku!" he shouts, and his flames swell in response. Ice spreads across the ground, rising up on the legs of everyone in the alley and freezing in place friend and foe alike.

All noise stops as they all turn to look at him. The look on Izuku's face sends icy, concentrated dread through Shouto's veins; it is a look of pure, unadulterated fear.

"Huh," says the man with a voice like old bones and snake venom. "Well, this just got even more interesting."

Shouto takes a step forward. He's shaking; out of rage or fear, he doesn't know, but he suspects it's a combination of the two. "Get away from him," he says, low and cold.

The man laughs once. "You all sound alike," he says. "'Get away from him!' 'Leave him alone!' Well." He moves forward suddenly, so fast that Shouto doesn't track his motion, and then he's right up in Shouto's face. " _Maybe you should be more concerned about yourself._ "

Shouto reels back, lashing out with flame and ice, and the man reaches forward with clawed fingers swirling with energy, and Izuku is screaming his name and—

The man's hand passes over his head, and Shouto falls backwards into a pair of strong arms. He looks up; it's Tenya, eyebrows furrowed low over his eyes and mouth set deep into a frown. Carefully, he sets Shouto back on his feet. A few feet away, Ochako has rushed to Izuku's side and is gripping his arm protectively.

The man looks back and forth between the four of them. Then he throws back his head and laughs and laughs and laughs. It's a dry, unsettling laugh, unhinged and tainted with darkness.

Shouto shifts uncomfortably. Other than the laughter, there is no sound in the alleyway, and the rest of the attackers are still, awaiting command.

"Tomura Shigaraki," says a tall, yellow-eyed man who is draped in shadow.

The man—Shigaraki—finally stops laughing. Wiping at dry eyes he straightens, and his mouth is stretched into a wide, feral grin. "Sorry," he says, voice empty of remorse. "It's just, this is very amusing."

"What is?" Shouto manages, mouth dry.

"You. Him." Shigaraki gestures between him and Izuku, still grinning. "I went for him so I could control you, but I never knew it would work so well! Here you are, playing right into my hands. And to think, he could be valuable even without you."

"What are you talking about?" asks Shouto. Over Shigaraki's shoulders, Izuku's face is pale—he knows what the man is talking about, and he doesn't like it.

That bodes ill.

Shigaraki sighs. "I'm tired of this," he says. "Game over. I win. Kurogiri!"

The yellow-eyed man steps forward, nodding a head obscured by shadow. "Yes, Shigaraki," he says.

The alleyway bursts back into motion. The attackers lunge forward, hands reaching to pin Izuku and Shouto down, and the shadows spread as if to consume them.

"Shouto!" cries Izuku, and through the darkness he reaches towards him. Shouto responds in turn, and for a moment, their fingers brush.

Then there's an explosion and the shadows recede.

"What the fuck is going on here?" says Katsuki Bakugou, flaming hands pressed as silent threats to Kurogiri's abdomen, pinning him to the ground.

Shigaraki pauses, turning slowly away from them and towards the newcomer. Shouto bridges the distance between himself and Izuku, pulling him close and holding on tight.

"I'm okay," whispers Izuku, and they both know it's a lie.

"Shit," hisses Shigaraki, agitated hands scratching at his neck. "You keep multiplying. You're like _cockroaches_."

"Tomura," warns Kurogiri, sounding almost nervous. "Please treat this with caution."

"Shut up!" snarls Shigaraki, dangerously close to losing all semblance of sanity. "Everyone shut up. This was supposed to be easy! You're just _brats_. Little _children_. You should not be able to put up a fight! Sensei said—" He cuts himself off, teeth grinding against each other. " _You'll all pay_."

"We have to tire him out," whispers Izuku in Shouto's ear. "His Kosei is like mine. If we can get him to overdo it like I did before, we might be able to win."

"How?" Shouto murmurs back.

"I don't know."

"And what do you mean it's like yours? It's a life Kosei?"

"No, it's—"

Footsteps pound into the alleyway, and Eijirou appears, arms encased in stone. He looks frantic, chest heaving and red hair matted with sweat.

"Hey, guys!" he cries, forcing a grin across his face. "Sorry it took so long!"

Shigaraki snarls in frustration. "I have just about had _enough_ of _little brats_ —"

Metal reaches through the air, pinning his arms against his sides and sealing over his mouth.

"You," says the man from the inn, black hair swept away from his face by swirling wind and eyes glinting dangerously. "Are not welcome in this city."

"Yeah!" shouts Hizashi. Air flows in and out of his throat unnaturally, boosting his voice to ridiculous levels of volume. All of them wince, the clone-making man clutching at his ears as dark spots appear at the side of his mask. "You're under arrest!"

Shigaraki's eyes burn underneath his matted hair. Dark energy swirls around him and the metal strips curl in on themselves, dropping away as misshapen pieces of rust. The dark-haired man from the inn steps back a step, flinching as if burned, and Hizashi glances at him in concern.

"Fuck," growls Shigaraki. " _Fuck!_ "

Then he moves.

It all happens in an instant. His clawed hands are reaching for Bakugou's face, and a tendril of darkness reaches for Shouto. He lurches backwards with Izuku and just _barely_ avoids it, but trips over his own feet and ends up falling.

And then their attackers are gone. Bakugou lies sprawled on the ground a few feet away, a low rock wall standing between him and where Kurogiri had been. At the end of the rock wall, Eijirou crouches with hands pressed to the earth.

Izuku exhales, the breath low and shaky, and suddenly Shouto registers that they're both trembling. Then Izuku collapses further into his arms and a moment later he's sobbing.

No one says anything. No one knows what to say. Shouto feels the adrenaline leave his veins and realizes that he's crying, too.

He's never been terrified like that before. Sure, he's been frightened before, but this was the first time he truly thought he might lose himself, might lose _Izuku_.

Endeavor was awful, but he never threatened Shouto's life.

"Well," says the man from the inn, hair settling around his shoulders. "I think you had all better come with us."

* * *

 **I don't know how to write Shigaraki yikes.**

 **To the handful of observant readers who commented on the similarities between the Life and Death Kosei: good eye!**

 **I know this one was kinda short but it just had to stop there or else it would never stop. I'm really excited for next chapter, though, so hopefully it'll be out fairly soon.**


	16. story

**A chapter? So soon after the last? Well yeah, but it's kind of a non-chapter chapter, and I've had it written for about a week now, so. Here. Have fun.**

* * *

Let's have a talk about life and death.

The thing about life is that it is fleeting. The thing about death is that it is eternal. The difference lies in their usage and in their manipulation.

It began with a man of darkness, with shadows in his soul. He grew and grew, and his power grew with him. Plants would wither at his touch; mice in the walls would simply keel over when brushed by his fingers.

It was useful in the summer, for the deaths of mosquitoes. It was useful in the fall when the walls became infested with rats.

It was useful to bring him along a path of darkness.

When he reached out his hands and reached out his soul, he could feel the lives of others. Soon, he learned that not only could he feel them, he could touch them, and soon after that he learned he could take them.

And when he took them, they joined his own. They made him stronger.

The man discovered one day that not only could he take, he could also give. The line between Life and Death blurred and the man snarled at it, jealously hoarding the lives of others as his own. They made him strong. They made him powerful. With them, and with insignificant grants of power to those he wished to control, the man created an empire of darkness and cruelty.

He felt strong. He liked feeling strong.

One day his brother came and grovelled at his feet. "Stop this, now!" he cried, and the man just laughed and laughed. His brother was a fool, he knew, to think that he would willingly give up the control he'd spent his life amassing.

But they were kin, after all, and so the man granted his brother a taste of his power. One full life's worth of energy—though the life force was a mixture of many souls—would give him enough strength to satisfy him, but not enough to make him a threat.

But they were brothers, and so they were bound by blood. And when the man gave his brother a life, part of that life was a piece of his own. And so the man grew less human, and his brother grew strong enough to hold the same power in his own hands.

The difference lies in the usage. The brother took this power and called it 'Life'.

The power was weak, at first; it was merely a fraction of that which it had come from. But when the brother grew old, he passed it to another, and the other's strength grew with the combination of both of their lives. Life is nebulous, and the line between one soul and the next is almost impossible to determine, so with each successive holder it became stronger and stronger.

And the man with the touch of death remained in the shadows of the west.

Until.

Until a beautiful queen, powerful and kind, sought him out. Until a woman of unimaginable strength stood before him and demanded his end. She was young, and new to her crown, threatened by his growing power within her kingdom.

"Stand down," she said, hands on her hips and chest thrust forward, chin high in the air in defiance. "Stop your reign of terror. Submit and you will come to no harm."

The man looked at her and looked at her. He looked into her soul and he saw his brother, weak and groveling and long-since dead.

The man laughed. He laughed for a long, long time.

And then he killed her.

An old man wept by her broken body and threw a young boy bodily across the room. "You cannot see this," he cried through tears of rage and sorrow. "You should not see this."

The boy turned on him, face wet with his own despair, and shouted so loudly that his throat ripped with the effort, "Why?"

He was asking, _why can't I see her?_ He was asking, _why did she leave me?_ He was asking, _why would someone do this to her?_

The old man bowed his head and did not reply, because he did not know the answer, and in his weakness the boy stepped forward and saw the broken remains of a woman who could have been like his mother.

In that moment, the boy's heart broke, and he swore to finish what she began. He swore to end the man of death, and to destroy the empire he had slowly amassed.

The man had weakened. He had spent to much energy on a woman he'd thought inconsequential, and it troubled him. So he moved deep into his territory and strengthened his borders. He ruled it with such an iron fist that, in truth, it became a kingdom of its own. No longer the Middle Kingdom, it became known as the West.

And to the east, the boy grew into a man. "We will not talk about the West Kingdom," he said one day. "I do not want my people to live in fear."

And so the people did not learn of the danger they were in. Their king became less of a man and more of a symbol; a shining beacon of power and hope. He was kind and just, and he loved his people with All of his Might, and so the people named him as such. All Might, king of the Middle Kingdom, noble and good.

But the Western Kingdom ate at him. It was a patch of darkness in his gut, and so he moved to obliterate it.

He failed.

The battle was glorious and terrible. There was death everywhere, and both sides came very close to losing not just the lives within their power, but their own lives as well.

And yet both escaped, neither unscathed. The West Kingdom opened up and its king disappeared.

"He's gone," All Might had gasped, relieved. "He's gone, I did it."

The old man, his mentor, had patted his head and said, "Yes, you did it," and he did not share the dread that boiled in his gut.

And so the Middle Kingdom lived oblivious to its near destruction and to the frailty of its king. And off the west, a man not yet exterminated steeped in his bitterness and anger and quietly amassed power.

"I will end you," he said into the shadows of the night. His breath rasped daggers against his throat and his power roiled like a wave of stale blood within his veins. "I will destroy everything you have strived for."

And in the end, he did, though not in the way he'd intended.

"The drugs," said his subordinate, eyes downcast and body trembling with fear. "They spilled. We lost them all into the ocean."

The king waved a hand through the air and scoffed, the action sending fire along his throat. "No matter," he said. "Those were imperfect, anyway. They were impossible to control."

The subordinate bowed his head, relieved to escape unscathed.

And then he died where he stood.

The king sighed and wiped the blood from his clothes, entirely unaware of what this news truly meant.

Unaware, that is, until a young boy ended the world.

The king stood atop the ice, watching humanity struggle to survive, and he laughed and laughed.

"How funny," he said, and his laughter died in his mouth like every other thing he had touched. "To think that I ended the world without even trying."

"How did it happen?" asked his subordinate, voice muffled by the mask on his face.

"The drugs," replied the king. The drugs and the boy and the ice were all connected, the lines obvious to his eyes. But his people thought that it was him who had done it, him who had ended the world in an instant, and he saw no reason to correct them.

"Tell no one," said the king to his masked subordinate. "This was because of us."

And the subordinate had nodded his head and gone back to his work.

The king turned back out and looked out onto the world. Ice glimmered around him, clean and cold, and he felt the pressure of every life contained within his soul.

He did not like having competition. But this…

This could be manipulated to his advantage.

The king turned away, and around him, the world burned and burned.

Or rather—

—it froze.


	17. reunite

**This only came so soon after the last update because I was REALLY excited. (Really low-key erasermic in this chapter. Like, really really REALLY low-key. If you don't like it just feel free to ignore it.) Fun fact: this is the obligatory fluff chapter after all that craziness. Enjoy.**

* * *

The man's name is Aizawa. He and Hizashi not only run the inn (and may or not be married, they're very unclear on that point) but are also, apparently, members of Yuuei's governing council.

Also, Eijirou is part of a group of powerful teenagers currently being trained to take over the council when they're older. "To secure the future," Aizawa says seriously. "And to ensure Yuuei does not fall."

"We're trying to save the world," adds Hizashi casually, as if he wasn't speaking of some herculean feat. "But we can't do that in one generation. That's what the kids are for."

Izuku says nothing. Usually, he'd be buzzing with excitement, brimming to the top with questions about the council and its young students. But not today. Today, he's perfectly content to lean on Shouto's shoulder and hide his tear-stained face from the crowd.

The crowd that parts like a wave around them, curious glances and speculative murmurs following them like ghosts. Izuku inhales shakily and feels Shouto's grip tighten.

"We're almost there," says Aizawa quietly, and despite the flatness of his tone, Izuku knows it is meant as a reassurance. It only makes him feel marginally better.

The statement proves to be correct. Moments later, they stand before the door of what must be the largest building in the city. Aizawa approaches the door and knocks sharply in a pattern, too fast for Izuku to distinguish but presumably serving as some sort of key. The door opens a few moments later, revealing a girl around Izuku's age with long dark hair pulled up into an explosive ponytail. The girl smiles at Aizawa, but then she sees the rest of them and her eyes widen.

"Oh my—Aizawa! Hizashi! What...what happened? Are you alright?"

Hizashi waves his hands in reassurance but Aizawa beats him to it. "Yaoyorozu. We'll talk about it later. Let us inside."

"But—"

"Yaoyorozu." Aizawa's tone brooks no argument, and the girl's eyes drop guiltily as she steps aside to let them in.

"Of course. I'm sorry." They walk inside and the door closes behind them, effectively cutting off the light from the street. Inside it's dark, lit only by the occasional lantern, but they appear to be in some sort of entranceway. Izuku swallows thickly and reminds himself that these shadows are nothing more than that, just shadows, but he can't shake the image of Shigaraki and his people appearing from the darkness of the alleyway.

Shouto's thumb rubs gently up and down on his shoulder. Izuku leans in closer, grounding himself in his friend's presence.

"Come on," says Hizashi, heading for a doorway in the far left corner that opens up into a stairwell. "Let's get you guys cleaned up."

* * *

Izuku has never been more grateful for a hot bath in his life.

They'd been checked over for injuries by a miniscule old woman with a gaze like steel. She'd taken one look at him and sighed loudly, before informing him that she knew his type: self-sacrificing, with low self-preservation instincts. He'd flinched but hadn't protested; it was, after all, true.

She'd introduced herself as Chiyo and bandaged his scrapes. Luckily, he doesn't have any serious injuries; minor cuts and bruises, a twisted—but not sprained—ankle. Most of the damage he took, as it turns out, was inflicted on his life force directly. So while not in critical condition, he is severely drained.

Somehow, Chiyo seems to know about the life and death Koseis, though she never says it outright. She eyes him and tells him to get some rest and to not exert himself, and then sends him off to get cleaned up.

And so here he is now, in a large basin of water heated by a coal stove. The air is full of steam, rising from the water and from his breaths. He's not alone; it's a communal bath, so Shouto, Kacchan, and Tenya are here too. Ochako is in a bath the next door over, the two rooms separated by a canvas partition.

Nobody's talking, even Kacchan, so Izuku assumes they're enjoying this as much as he is. It's been _days_ since any of them bathed.

Come to think of it, they probably smell atrocious at this point. But personal hygiene had simply not been a priority in their desperate need to escape.

Endeavor is much more frightening than a healthy coat of grime.

"Are you going to be okay?" says Shouto quietly from a few feet to the left, and Izuku startles. With his eyes closed, he hadn't noticed his friend moving quietly through the water to rest beside him.

"Y-yeah," says Izuku, trying to stop the heat that's rushing up his neck at the fact that Shouto is two feet away and _naked, god help him_. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"It's just…" Shouto looks away, frowning, and all of Izuku's embarrassment abandons him to be replaced with concern. "You said Shigaraki...you said his Kosei was like yours. And you have no serious injuries but you were so...and I just. I'm worried."

The last words are spoken in a whisper, like Shouto has trouble revealing that measure of vulnerability. Izuku swallows hard and reaches out a hand to touch his arm. Shouto startles, before registering the contact and meeting his eyes.

"I'm okay," says Izuku softly. "He drained some of my life force, but I'm okay now."

"You're sure?"

"Yeah." A pause. "Are you?"

"Yes."

There's a loud splash and a puff of smoke among the steam. "Will you two shut up?" shouts Kacchan, and for a moment there's silence. Then a giggle escapes Izuku's mouth, unbidden, and then another and another. Shouto glances at him, confused, but soon he's laughing too.

"What the hell—shut up!" snaps Kacchan, and that just makes Izuku laugh harder. He laughs so hard that tears spring to his eyes, and he can't even say for sure why he's laughing. But he's exhausted, and he'd been so afraid, and the laughter feels like a release. It's cleansing, washing away the fear and despair as the bathwater washes away the blood and grime.

Surrounded by water and steam, Izuku laughs, and it feels like restoration.

Shouto leans in a little closer, and that feels like a restoration too.

* * *

Izuku dresses in the clothes provided. They're nothing fancy, just some sweatpants and a long sleeved shirt with a sweatshirt to go over the top, but they're warm and clean and Izuku feels better in them than he has all week. On top of that, the building is warm despite the lack of central heating, a series of fireplaces burning in every room.

There's a knock on the door, and then Eijirou enters. Though he didn't bathe, he's combed his hair and changed into a fresh shirt and a pair of jeans.

"Hey," he says, waving lazily. "Whenever you guys are ready I'm supposed to take you up to the Council."

Shouto appears at Izuku's side, the shoulders of his sweatshirt speckled with droplets of water from his still-damp hair. "We're ready," he says.

Eijirou looks him up and down, and Izuku can tell he wants to say something. He realizes with a jolt that this is the first time the other boy has seen Shouto in his entirety, striking hair and scar in all. Before, he'd been hiding beneath a hood, but now…

Fortunately, Eijirou keeps his mouth shut and leads them out the door.

* * *

The council room is huge.

In the Before, it must have been some sort of ballroom or presentation hall. Now, it stands mostly empty. It is lit by lanterns every few feet and by the windows lining the edges of the room, high up near where the walls meet the ceiling. There's also a fireplace on every wall, and one in the center. The latter is ringed by a semicircle of tables.

Behind the tables sit the Council of Yuuei.

Aizawa stands as they enter. "Come in," he calls, and gestures to a row of empty chairs set up before the tables. "Sit down."

The Council's eyes are on them, intense and calculating. Shouto shivers and longs for the shadow of his hoodie. He sits as instructed, ending up with Izuku on his right and Tenya on his left.

Eijirou pauses before sitting and raises his hand slightly. "Um...where is—"

"He's coming," says a dark-haired woman, smiling through painted-red lips.

Aizawa sighs, looking annoyed. "Late, as usual."

"Aw, cut him some slack, Shouta! He's just—"

A small man at the center of the tables stands up in his chair and lifts a placating hand. "Now, now. We have guests." He takes a dignified sip from a teacup and then smiles at the group, gaze sweeping over them one at a time. When his eyes meet Shouto's, black and beady and disconcertingly analyzing, Shouto shivers. He feels naked, all of his secrets and all of his mistakes laid out for the man to see.

Then he looks away.

"My name is Nezu," he says, still smiling mildly. "Your names?"

No one says anything. Shouto catches Eijirou watching them, fidgeting slightly.

"Come on, guys," he urges gently. Shouto glances at Izuku, who bites his lip and reaches out a subtle hand to clasp Shouto's fingers.

There's a loud sigh from Tenya's other side. Ochako sits forward, beaming, and places a hand on her chest. "I'm Ochako Uraraka," she says brightly. "Sorry about these guys, they're just shy." She elbows Tenya so hard he rocks sideways and bumps against Shouto. "Let's go!"

Tenya nods curtly, standing in one sharp movement. "I apologize for my rudeness!" he declares, loud as ever. "My name is Tenya Iida!"

"Like the Iida Trade Center?" asks the woman. Tenya nods.

"Yes! My family runs the place!"

"Oh, nice," says the woman, and looks expectantly at Shouto.

 _My name is Shouto Todoroki. Yes, Todoroki like the Lord of Endeavor. Yes, Todoroki like the former ruling family of the late North Kingdom. Yes, like Endeavor's wayward son who ended the world._

Yeah, that'd go over great.

"I'm Shouto," he says shortly. He leaves it at that.

Aizawa leans forward and opens his mouth, but Izuku jumps to his feet and blurts out his own name, effectively cutting off any prying questions. Shouto exhales softly, relieved, and glances briefly at Aizawa. The man is frowning but lets it go as the rest of the group introduces themselves.

"Alright," says Nezu, _still smiling that miniscule smile_. "Now, I hear you were attacked by a group of—"

The door opposite them opens suddenly and a man rushes in. He's tall and painfully thin, with a mess of straw-colored hair and deep shadows around blindingly blue eyes. He looks flustered.

"Sorry! Sorry I'm—"

There's a deafening crash as Izuku's chair falls over. Everyone in the room jumps, and Shouto stands, concerned.

Izuku is frozen, gaze locked on the newcomer. He's shaking.

Shouto opens his mouth to say something, reaching out for his friend, whose expression is that of someone who's just seen a ghost.

"Izuku."

It's not him who said it. It was the man. Shouto turns to look at him only to discover that his face is as pale as Izuku's, his large, trembling hands rising through the air; one to cover his mouth in shock, the other to reach out in Izuku's direction.

"Toshinori," breathes Izuku, clinging to the word like a lifeline, the desperate last gasp of a dying animal.

There's tears brimming in his eyes and Shouto is so, so confused.

"Izuku, do you...know him?" he asks quietly, and gets no answer. Izuku is deaf and blind to all but the blue-eyed stranger standing opposite.

Without taking his eyes off of the boy before him, the man gestures to the Council "Can we have the room?" he asks, voice dry and cracking in places.

Nezu's eyes are calculating. "Alright," he says eventually. "Everyone—" he gestures towards the door behind where Shouto sits, where they'd entered the room. The council members stand and begin to file out, Shouto's companions moving with them.

Aizawa's hand lands heavy and firm on his shoulder, and Shouto does his best not to flinch. He's not entirely successful.

"That means you, too," says Aizawa, quiet but stern, and bodily steers him out of the room. Shouto bites his lip and glances back at Izuku.

"He won't...hurt him?"

"No," says Aizawa. "Your friend will come to no harm."

"You swear it?"

"I swear it."

Shouto catches one last glance of Izuku's back, curls still damp from the bath and hands clenched into shaking fists at his sides, before the door closes.

"Who is that?" growls Bakugou, rounding on Hizashi, who has the misfortune of happening to be closest to him. "What the fuck does he want with Deku?"

Hizashi smiles and pats Bakugou's head, inciting a rabid snarl and a shower of sparks.

"That's Toshinori Yagi," he says, and Shouto's heart stops dead in his chest.

Toshinori Yagi.

The former king of the Middle Kingdom.

* * *

They're alone.

The room is completely silent. Neither of them speaks; neither knows how. Izuku's heart is pounding. He wants to cry. He wants to scream. He wants to laugh. He wants to run to Toshinori, to punch him, to hug him, just to _touch_ him and feel his presence, to make sure that he's solid, that he's real, that this isn't some sort of hallucination or a dream.

"If this is a dream," Izuku manages, voice breaking in a million different places. "It's a cruel one."

Toshinori takes an uncertain step forward. "Izuku," he says. Stops. Tries again. "Izuku. This isn't a dream."

Izuku laughs, even though there's absolutely nothing funny about this situation. "Are you sure?" he says. "Because there's no way it's really you."

Toshinori frowns. "But of course I'm real, my boy. Why wouldn't I be?"

 _My boy_. As if it hasn't been years. As if Toshinori hadn't left him alone at the end of the world.

Something poisonous writhes in Izuku's gut. Years of anger and loneliness rise upwards like heartburn, and then he's stepping forward with fire in his mouth.

"I thought you'd _died_!" explodes Izuku as something inside him tears apart. Toshinori staggers backwards a step, as if the words are a physical blow.

"My boy, why would—"

"Well what was I _supposed_ to think?" Izuku cries. "It was the end of the _world_ , Toshinori! And you just—you just disappeared! I thought...what, you thought I'd just, I'd just think you'd...you'd gone on _vacation_ or something? That you'd just _left_? I didn't think—I never—I never thought you'd leave me."

Toshinori's hand is covering his mouth, and his eyes are wide and wet. "Izuku," he says, and it is with the sound of a heart breaking. "I'm so sorry. I'm—I'm so, so sorry."

Izuku's chest is heaving. Tears, hot and bitter, slide down his face, tasting of salt and pain and loss. "I needed you. Toshinori, I needed you."

"I know. Oh, my boy, I know."

"Then _why_?" pleads Izuku. " _Why_ did you leave?"

"It was—" Toshinori's shoulders, so much thinner than in Izuku's memory, shake like the wind-blown branches of an oak. "It was to protect you."

"Protect me from _what_?"

"From my enemies."

It's not enough of an explanation. It's not even close, and they both know it. It's apparent in Izuku's tears and Toshinori's trembling hands that they both know it.

"They...they would hurt you, Izuku, if they knew about you. I couldn't lose you."

 _But you did_ , thinks Izuku, feeling small and lost, like a little boy left alone on a beach with no one else in sight. _You lost me when you left. We lost each other._

He doesn't say that. From Toshinori's expression, he already knows it.

"I thought you were _dead_ ," is what he does say, and his voice breaks in the middle. His knees start to buckle and he begins to fall, but in the next moment Toshinori is rushing forward and strong, sturdy arms wrap around him, supportive even in their frailty.

"I know," says Toshinori, and pulls him tight against his chest. His chin, sharp and bony, rests atop Izuku's head, nestled into his thick curls. "I know, and I'm so, so sorry. I never...I never should have left you like that."

Izuku returns the embrace, squeezing his mentor so tightly that he's almost worried the man might snap, but he doesn't want to (can't) let go, for fear of Toshinori slipping away again.

"Please don't leave again," begs Izuku, voice muffled by the fabric of Toshinori's shirt. "Please, please don't leave me again."

"I won't," says Toshinori, and his words are a promise. "I won't ever, ever make that mistake again."

They don't talk after that. They just stay there, wrapped into each other's arms, clinging tight against years of separation. There is a divide that lies between them, and it was bridged in the moment that their eyes met.

They are Toshinori and Izuku. They are King and Prince. They are Ruler and Heir.

But, most importantly, though neither will say it:

They are Father and Son.

* * *

"Hey," says Toshinori after a while, running soothing fingers through Izuku's hair. "You're going to be alright."

Izuku glances up at him through his tears and smiles. He knows how this goes. They've played this game before.

"Why?" he asks, because he knows Toshinori expects him to.

"Because I am here," finishes Toshinori boldly, grinning. Then his expression softens. "I'll always be here."

Izuku's doubt must show on his face, because guilt flickers through Toshinori's eyes. "My boy, I want to apologize," he says quietly. "I made a mistake. I should never have left you like that."

"Why did you?"

"Because…" Toshinori sighs and runs a hand down his face. "I wanted to protect you. You know I have enemies."

"What enemy was so great that they made you run away?"

Toshinori's eyes are distant as he trails a hand down to touch the place on his side where Izuku knows his scar is. "The one who did this to me."

Izuku sucks in a breath. "Who?"

"They call him All For One," replies Toshinori, voice low and dark. "He was the one who killed my predecessor, who almost destroyed everything I'd built. Do you remember the West Kingdom?"

Izuku's eyebrows furrow. "I thought it was a myth?"

"No. Everything you've heard about it is true. All For One was a threat to everything I held dear, even you. I thought I'd destroyed him, or at least weakened him to the point where he could no longer pose a danger, but apparently I was wrong." Toshinori's eyes leave the middle ground and latch onto Izuku's, hands curling tighter around him. "It was All For One who ended the world."

Izuku's heart drops.

"No," he says. "It wasn't."

* * *

When the door opens again, Izuku looks happier than Shouto's ever seen it before. His expression is serious, but he holds himself higher, every footstep lighter. There's a lift to his shoulders, a confidence in his eyes.

Toshinori Yagi's hand is on his shoulder, but unlike Endeavor's grasp, it is not a threat but a promise. Just by looking at them Shouto can tell that Toshinori is serving as Izuku's support.

Shouto has so many questions.

Izuku turns to him, eyes burning with thousands of words. "We need to talk," he says, and leads him right back out the door.

Toshinori and the rest stay behind in the council room.

"How do you know the king of the Middle Kingdom?" Shouto blurts out before he can stop himself. Izuku shakes his head and leads him into a secluded corner of the hallway.

"That's not important right now," he says seriously. "I promise I'll fill you in later, but for now I need tell you something that you're not going to like."

Shouto's brow furrows. "What is it?"

"We need to tell them who you are. And...what you did."

The words hit him like a physical blow, and Shouto takes a step back, ripping himself from Izuku's grasp. "No. No, why would we—"

"Shouto. They can help us, but only if we tell them everything."

"I can't," says Shouto, and it sounds far too much like a whine. "Izuku, I _can't_."

"You can," assures Izuku. "Look, I know you're afraid, but we can trust them. They can't help us if we don't tell them how."

"What can they do?" snaps Shouto. "They can't reverse it! All this will achieve is them hating me!"

"But we can figure it out," retorts Izuku, something sharp bleeding into the softness of his tone. "They can protect us from your father, and from Shigaraki. We're in danger! We've been in danger! But they can keep us safe! Don't you want that?"

"This isn't safe!" roars Shouto. His blood runs hot and fear mixes with anger and then _combusts_ and then—

His arm goes up in flames.

Izuku's eyes widen and he staggers back, tips of his bangs singed. Shouto puts it out as fast as he can and tries to hide his shaking.

"This isn't safe," he repeats. "As long as people know, nothing is safe. How do you know they won't hand me right over to my father the minute he shows up?"

Izuku shakes his head, eyes damp and flickering. "They won't."

"How do you _know_?"

"Because I know Toshinori," whispers Izuku. "And he would never hurt you."

" _How do you know him?_ "

Izuku sighs and looks away.

"I'm his heir."

* * *

"Seven years ago, the world was consumed in ice," says Izuku. His hands are clasped behind his back, his voice steady. "Society as we know it collapsed. Many have heralded this event as the end of the world.

"There have been many rumors throughout the years as to who caused this event. Many claimed it was a single figure, known popularly as the 'Ice King'. Descriptions varied, but all had one thing in common: the Ice King was some villainous figure, responsible for the Great Ice and through malevolent motives, the destruction of the world."

Shouto swallows and looks away. He knew, of course, what the rest of the world thought of him, but to hear Izuku say it out loud—

It hurts.

"Some, however, think this is unreasonable," continues Izuku. "There are rumors of some secret society of evil-doers operating behind the scenes to bring about the Great Ice. Toshinori has informed me of your thoughts on the matter. It is your belief that the Great Ice was orchestrated by All For One, the former king of the West Kingdom."

Aizawa leans forward across the table, frowning. "What is your point?"

Izuku glances to the side, eyes meeting Shouto's. That's his cue. To his left, Bakugou inhales sharply, seeming to realize what's about to happen, but says nothing.

Shouto steps forward and steals his nerves.

He hates this.

"I am here to tell you that your beliefs are incorrect," he says, keeping his voice and expression as flat and emotionless as he possibly can. His fingers twitch at his sides, belying his fear, and he can only hope they aren't looking too closely.

"Oh?" says Nezu.

"Yes," continues Shouto around a mouthful of lead. "All For One did not end the world."

Izuku moves subtly closer and squeezes his hand, offering silent support. Shouto is grateful, but it doesn't make this any less hard.

"Who are you to say that with such certainty?" asks the dark-haired woman.

"My name is Shouto Todoroki," says Shouto. " And I know that All For One did not end the world, because I'm the one who did."

* * *

 **Hi so uh I love Dad Might I don't know if you can tell but. I LOVE IT. Romantic stuff is all well and good but NOTHING and I mean NOTHING beats some good father-son dynamic. (Ok maybe older sibling/younger sibling but in either case FOUND FAMILIES ARE MY JAM.)**

 **I've had that Dad Might scene written since Thanksgiving. THANKSGIVING. So excited to finally get to use it.**


	18. portend

**In which I regret referring to all of the characters by their first names. (you: but jess! what about aizawa? Me: I CANT)**

 **le-cosmic-nopedog on tumblr made me some really beautiful art so go check it out under the icefall tag.**

 **Again, low-key erasermic and introducing some REALLY low-key momojirou because. lesbeans. let me have my lesbeans. (this fic's biggest weakness is the lack of girls I'M SORRY)**

 **Chapter warnings: There's a panic attack at one point. Uh. Maybe at two points. It's not super long or detailed and it's from another character's perspective the second time, but I thought I'd stick a warning on it anyway.**

* * *

 _"_ _My name is Shouto Todoroki," says Shouto. " And I know that All For One did not end the world, because I'm the one who_ _did."_

* * *

"What do you mean?" asks Aizawa carefully. He's standing, hands planted on the tabletop before him. The council is regarding Shouto with wary eyes, none of them quite believing or understanding.

"What?" gasps Eijirou. His brow is furrowed deeply, and he looks incredibly disturbed. Shouto's gut curdles with guilt.

 _They hate me they hate me they hate me_ —

"Please explain," says Nezu. His eyes are unreadable.

Shouto opens his mouth but no sound comes out. He feels like he's falling, like the floor is spiralling away from under him and the whole room is rotating in dizzying circles. His heart pounds quickly in his chest, white noise filling his ears as his blood rushes faster through his veins.

"Shouto?" whispers Izuku from far away.

"I can't," he manages. "I can't."

There's pressure on his arm. Hands grasp at him, grounding him, and a body presses against his side. Shouto reaches out and clings to the presence beside him.

"It's a complicated story," says Izuku, inches from his face, but he's talking out, towards the council. "But first and foremost I need you to understand that what happened wasn't Shouto's fault."

"I'm confused," says the dark-haired woman. "First you tell us he's responsible, then you say it's not his fault. What's the truth?"

"I did it," says Shouto, finally pulling himself out of his panic. "I'm responsible for the Great Ice. And it _was_ my fault."

Izuku makes a noise of protest. "No it wasn't! It was his!"

"Whose?" asks Hizashi.

"All of it was his fault. All of this was because he hurt you. Don't blame yourself!"

"Izuku—"

"My boy, please try to be clearer—"

"I don't understand. How did he—"

"If everyone would fucking _shut up_ then you'd find out!"

"Everyone please try to calm down!"

"Shh, Tenya, you're making it worse."

Aizawa's fist slams against the table. Everyone jumps and then falls silent. The man's dark gaze scans across them, freezing them each in place before settling directly on Shouto.

"Explain," he orders. "Now."

Shouto takes a deep breath and lets it out in a rush of air. Izuku squeezes his arm a bit harder.

"When I was nine years old," begins Shouto. "My mother gave me this scar."

* * *

The hyena is pacing.

" **Explain it to me again,** " says the voice of his teacher. " **Be clearer about it**."

"There was this kid," snaps the hyena, hands frantically scratching at his neck. "His Kosei was like mine. It was like Death but brighter. When I tried to kill him it didn't work. It was too slow. He fought back. _People aren't supposed to be able to fight back_."

 **"Tomura,"** says Sensei. **"Calm yourself."**

The hyena stops pacing. His chest heaves with each weighted breath and the skin of his neck is an angry red from the incessant scratching of his fingers.

 **"It sounds to me,"** says Sensei, voice dark and unemotional, **"like you encountered someone with the Life Kosei."**

The shadow stirs from where he had been silently observing. It's hard to see beneath the darkness of his face, but his mouth is pulled downwards into a frown. "I thought you killed the last and only holder."

Sensei chuckles. It's a terrifying sound, grating and evil like bones and death. **"No. He survived, but he was beaten beyond usefulness."**

"So what does this mean?" wheezes the hyena through lips so dry and cracked that his teeth are stained with blood. "What do we do?"

 **"It means,"** says Sensei musingly. **"That the almighty king of the Middle Kingdom has found an heir after all. And—"** Here he pauses, letting the air fill with ice and poison. It is such an ominous atmosphere that even the shadow has to suppress a shiver. The hyena, however, is unaffected. **"—it means that our priorities have changed slightly."**

"What's our next course of action?" asks the shadow.

 **"Capture the boy,"** orders Sensei. **"And Endeavor's brat as well, if you can. Bring them to me."**

He chuckles again, and this time the hyena does shiver.

 **"This very well may be what we need to take total control. Let's teach that bothersome council a lesson they won't soon forget."**

* * *

The room is silent for a long time after Shouto finishes his story. The truth of the matter is that no one knows what to say, and Izuku understands this very well; he'd felt the same on that icy tundra when Shouto had first confessed.

What do you say in response to pure, unadulterated pain?

To his left, Ochako makes a very small noise, somewhere between a gasp and a cry. Izuku glances over to see that her eyes are full of tears. Beside her, Tenya looks similarly stunned, eyes blown wide behind his glasses and hands held rigidly against his chest.

Oh. That's right. They didn't know. They had an inkling, they were handed morsels of the story, but they didn't _know_.

" _Fuck_ ," says Kacchan and...god, he didn't know either. All this time, they've been traveling as a team, as _friends_ , and the whole time it's only been Izuku who's known. All this time, this has been a weight worn only by himself and by Shouto.

 _Shouto_.

Shouto's face is pale, paler than usual. It makes his scar stand out more, in blinding contrast to the rest of his face. His eyes are downcast, head hanging just slightly so that his hair falls like a curtain.

"Are you okay?" asks Izuku softly, even though it's clear to everyone in the room that Shouto is the very opposite of okay. But the silence is stretching on and on and it keeps getting heavier and Izuku thinks if he lets it go on any further he'll suffocate under its weight.

Shouto makes an inhuman sound in the back of his throat and leans into his side. Izuku wraps his arms tighter and just holds on, because this is all he can offer. Support.

"Well," says Aizawa at last, and clears his throat. By his side, Hizashi sniffles, and across from them Toshinori's face is more heavily lined than ever.

"This certainly changes some things."

And that?

That helps no one.

But it does manage to break the suffocating silence at last. The council members are stirring, Izuku's friends drawing closer. Eijirou's hands are shaking at his sides, and Ochako is reaching out to touch Shouto, but Izuku shakes his head at her and she lowers her arms, instead choosing to stand beside them like a sort of shield. She is mirrored by Tenya, expression as serious as ever, and Kacchan, face unusually calm but eyes full of flame, and Izuku has never felt more grateful that these are the people he has surrounded himself with. It's nice to be able to rely on someone.

"Alright," says Nezu, standing, face a mask of calm and black eyes full of hidden depth. "I think we had better discuss what happens next."

* * *

The snow crunches loudly beneath his boots and Enji has to control the urge to kick at it. That would be childish, and, unlike his _ridiculous_ son, he is above tantrums.

He is not, however, above anger. It steams out his ears and between the gaps in his clenched fists in the form of smoke. His flames rage around his face, crackling and aggressive.

"Yuuei," he scoffs with distaste. Before him, the city sprawls like a blight across the pure snow of the land. It angers him to see something thrive from beyond his control, to look upon something with such power and know he cannot own it.

It is a mockery of him; it is a threat.

Enji's teeth grind together. The last thing he wants to do is enter the city. It's bad enough that he's already well within the council's domain.

But he's sure Shouto is here. There is no doubt in his mind that this is the place to which that brat has run.

There will be hell to pay when Enji finds him.

"Alright," he growls under his breath, and mounts his snowmobile.

* * *

"—in that case, I think our next course of action should be to—"

There is an insistent knock outside the council room and then the door opens with a crash. Framed by the heavy wooden frame is a frantic-looking boy, chest heaving and shock of yellow hair awry.

"Kaminari?" asks the dark-haired woman, whose name is Nemuri and who is more dangerous than she seems.

Aizawa rises to his feet. He's frowning.

The boy opens his mouth and then closes it again, hand braced against the doorway. He's still gasping for breath, as if he'd run a long distance at a very fast speed. Behind him, footsteps signify the approach of two other teenagers, one with a poof of bright pink curls and another with black hair as straight as straw framing the sides of his unassuming face. They skid to a stop beside him, chests heaving as his and not one of them yet able to speak.

Something turns over in Izuku's stomach. Something that feels a lot like dread.

"Kaminari," says Aizawa sharply. "What is it?"

The first boy raises a finger and sucks more air into his lungs before finally straightening and pushing further into the room. His companions follow him in and the door slams shut behind them.

"We were out shopping," says Kaminari all in a rush. "Cuz you said we had the day off and it was so nice out, it wasn't even snowing, so we just went out to have fun. And all the vendors were out so it was really crowded and everyone was shouting like usual so at first we didn't notice—"

"Kaminari," snaps Aizawa. "Get to the point."

"Endeavor!" shouts Kaminari. "The Lord of Endeavor!"

Ice shoots through Izuku's veins, and pressed against his side he can feel Shouto physically stutter, knees buckling slightly and arms going taut.

"Fuck," says Kacchan, and Izuku finds himself strongly agreeing with the sentiment.

"What?" says Hizashi. "What about Endeavor?"

"He's here," says the pink-haired girl. "He's here, in Yuuei, and he's stirring up trouble."

"Yeah!" adds the black-haired boy, stepping forward and raising both hands in the air. "He was handing out flyers and shouting about the Great Ice and getting everyone riled up and—"

"And he said he was coming here!" interrupts Kaminari. "He said he was coming to the council!"

Toshinori's chair falls over with how fast he stands up. "How far away is he?"

"He has to be close," says Kaminari. "We started running when we heard he was coming this way, but he's moving through town on a _snowmobile_ and he wasn't that far away so—"

The door slams opens again. It's the girl who'd let them in earlier, Yaoyorozu, looking frantic. "I really hate to interrupt but _why is Enji Todoroki knocking on our door?_ "

"Fuck," swears Aizawa, and in a moment he's crossed the room and grabbed Shouto bodily by the shoulders, steering him back towards the council members and almost throwing him at Toshinori, Izuku hurrying along behind them. " _Hide him._ "

There's a flurry of motion and then all five of them are being rushed through the back door of the room and led at a frantic pace through the hallways. Shouto has a death-grip on Izuku's hand, squeezing so tightly that his knuckles are white and Izuku's fingers are numb. He doesn't say anything, though, or try to pull away—not now. Not with Endeavor so close by.

They're pushed into what appears to be the kitchen. A man in a chef's hat looks up from where he's chopping vegetables, eyebrows flying up his face, but Nemuri hushes him as Toshinori hurries to a door in the back that opens up into a large walk-in pantry. "Keep quiet," he orders, and then shoves them inside.

The door slams shut behind them and then they're alone in the darkness.

" _God fucking damnit_ ," whispers Kacchan, and Izuku can just barely see Ochako and Tenya simultaneously attempt to cover his mouth with their hands. Right now, though, he has other concerns.

Shouto is barely breathing. His eyes are wild in the faint light that seeps beneath the pantry door. Ice creeps along the ground at his feet and the air is growing steadily colder.

Izuku knows a panic attack when he sees one.

"Shouto," he says, as loud as he dares, and ignores the others shushing him. "Shouto," he says again, and forces his friend downwards to sit on the floor beside him.

Then he pulls him into a hug and holds on tight. "It's okay," he whispers into Shouto's ear, and the cold lessens just slightly. "It's okay. He won't get to you. He'll never touch you again."

"How do you know?" murmurs Shouto in the frightened breath of a child. " _How do you know?_ "

"Because I won't let him," says Izuku, and it's less like a reassurance and more of a promise. "I'll never let him take you."

"Okay," whispers Shouto, and then they are silent together in the dark.

Waiting.

* * *

Shouta has never liked Enji Todoroki.

They've met in the past, back in the Before when Todoroki was a king and Shouta a noble. Todoroki had been contemptuous even then, not bothering to hide his distaste every time Shouta entered the room. Unlike the king of the North, Yagi chose to appoint commoners to his council based on merit rather than by birth, and so Shouta's status was something that he had earned, and rightly so.

Todoroki did not see it that way.

"Shouta," says Hizashi softly as they approach the door. Shouta pauses with his hand on the knob and glances back, eyebrow raised.

"Be careful?"

Shouta nods curtly. "I know." The door is rattling insistently with the pounding of fists against wood, and Todoroki's angry bellows travel through the walls as if he were standing in the room with them. "Go guard the kids."

"But Shouta—"

"Hizashi." They don't have time for this right now, but Shouta forces himself to be patient. "This is going to require delicacy, and you and I both know that you cannot lie to save your life."

Hizashi nods slowly, but he doesn't look happy about it. "Fine," he says, voice tense, and does as he's told.

Shouta takes a deep breath, bracing himself, and opens the door.

Enji Todoroki is as massive as he remembers. He's clearly furious, face twisted into a deep scowl and wreathed in madly burning flames. His expression grows even harder when his eyes fall on Shouta and he attempts to push into the room, but Shouta stands firm and blocks his path.

"Aizawa," growls Todoroki, lip curling to reveal teeth bared like an animal's. "Where is he?"

Shouta raises a very careful eyebrow and keeps his own expression blank. "Ah, Todoroki," he says. "Where is who?"

"You know _damn well_ who," spits Todoroki, leaning in close enough that Shouta can feel the heat of his flames against his skin. " _Where is my son?_ "

"Hmm," says Shouta. "Which son are you referring to?" _The one you think you own or the ones you threw away?_ is what he leaves unsaid, but Todoroki hears it anyway and his flames burn hotter.

" _Shouto_ ," sneers Todoroki. "I know you're hiding him, Aizawa. You and your _damn_ council."

Shouta pretends to think about this, letting the silence stretch on for uncomfortably long because it's fun to watch Todoroki squirm. "No," he says at last. "I don't recall seeing any Shoutos. Unless I've been lied to, but I think a Todoroki would be fairly distinctive." Todoroki opens his mouth but Shouta lets his eyebrows drop lower over his eyes and when he next speaks, his voice is low and threatening. "In any case, this is not your terf, _Endeavor_."

Todoroki's mouth opens into an ugly grin, teeth flashing white against his flames. "You should watch your tongue, Aizawa," he spits. "I am _king_ —"

"Not anymore."

Todoroki stops dead, eyes glinting angrily. "Excuse me?"

"You are not the king anymore, Todoroki," says Aizawa coolly. "You have no power here, and you would do well to remember that."

"This is war, Aizawa," hisses Todoroki, looming over Shouta with every bit of mass he possesses. "I know you're hiding my son and I won't stand for it. I will get him back from you, one way or another."

"Of course," says Shouta, and starts to close the door. "And now I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

Todoroki's hand reaches out to grab the door, holding it in place as he takes a step forward. "You tell you precious council," he growls, "that I am coming for you. I'm taking him back, no matter what. That _brat_ is coming home with me whether he likes it or not."

Shouta's Kosei activates and his scarf rises around his neck, the thinly woven threads of metal writhing about like some great snake and reaching out to pry Todoroki's fingers away from the wood of the door. "Don't try this, Todoroki," he says lowly. "This is not a war you will win."

Todoroki throws back his head and laughs, finally releasing the door as he steps back out into the street. "Fine, then," he says. "Let the war begin."

"Goodbye, Todoroki."

"Aizawa." Todoroki's face is serious again, eyes raging with flame. "Remember that it was you who fired the first shots." He gestures at the crowd of gaping onlookers and grins widely. "Power is power and I have more of it than you think."

"I'm sure," says Shouta dryly, and closes the door in his face.

* * *

It's nighttime. The room is dark but for what light filters in through the window, and Shouto is lying in an unfamiliar bed with his eyes wide open.

He can't sleep. How could he, with Endeavor so nearby?

It's not as quiet as it should be; the city is wide awake with the presence of the former Northern king. Shouts ring out, and though it's impossible to distinguish words, Shouto imagines he knows what they're saying. _The Ice King is here? In our city? In Yuuei? Thank you for telling us, Endeavor! We have to hunt him down now or else he'll—_

"Shouto?" says Izuku quietly from the other bed, and Shouto starts before rolling over to peer across the gap between the beds. In the darkness, he can only just barely make out the outline of Izuku's curls and the glint of his eyes.

He doesn't say anything. He doesn't need to.

"It's going to be okay," promises Izuku, but the words fall flat. Nothing is okay about their situation. Not with Shigaraki's attack or with Endeavor's presence lingering in the shadows of Shouto's thoughts, not with the threats that hang heavy over their heads. "I'll keep you safe."

"How?" says Shouto, even though he didn't mean to.

Izuku sighs, sounding far too weary for a boy his age. "We're safe here with the council. They'll protect us. Toshinori will, at the very least. I trust them."

Shouto hums wordlessly.

"Do you trust me?"

"Of course," says Shouto instantly. "Of course I trust you."

"Then trust me to protect you. Trust my trust in them. Trust that we'll get through this."

Shouto exhales in a puff of frost and rolls onto his back. _I'm scared_ , is what he wants to say, but he can't quite force the words out of his mouth.

Izuku knows it, anyway, so there's not much point.

They are silent for a long moment, and Shouto thinks that Izuku has fallen asleep. Then there is a creaking of bedsprings and he glances over to see the silhouette of Izuku sitting up.

"Izuku?"

"Can I come sleep with you?" asks Izuku, and despite the awkwardness Shouto should feel from this situation all he can register is relief. He nods once, unseen, and then vocally agrees. Izuku's feet pad softly across the floor and then the blanket lifts and there is a warm body pressed against Shouto's side, close within the small confines of the single bed.

"Is this alright?" murmurs Izuku.

Shouto doesn't respond to that with words. Instead he turns towards Izuku and nestles into his chest, pressing closer to his warmth and taking comfort in his nearness.

"Thank you," he whispers, and he can feel Izuku nodding against the crown of his head.

"Goodnight, Shouto."

* * *

Enji is a resourceful man.

Technically his domain lies in the fiefdom of Endeavor, yes; technically, he holds no sway in Yuuei. But he is a powerful man with many connections, and he is not so noble that he would keep his connections within his own territory.

In other words: Enji has spies. They're everywhere, but nowhere as numerous as in Yuuei.

"We're ready," says Daisuke. Enji turns towards him and grins.

Daisuke is one of his most trusted allies. He was once a noble, back in the Before, and was fiercely loyal even then. Now he works as an artisan in Yuuei, just a man among the people: a man who is trusted and liked.

There is much value in a man who is well-liked, and Enji has taken advantage of this. Daisuke, among others, has spread the word around the city. Rumors and stories that they are in danger, that Enji is in the city, that he will be speaking at sunrise; _come to the marketplace if you want to hear the news_ _firsthand_.

It's sunrise now, the sky cast in orange like the flames that flicker around him, declaring his strength for all to see.

It's time.

* * *

"I'm telling you," says Mina, insistently tugging on Eijirou's sleeve. "Makoto from the corner shop knocked on our door this morning and said Endeavor was speaking at the marketplace."

"At sunrise?" says Kyouka, rubbing a hand through her tousled hair. "Mina, really? _Endeavor?"_

"I'm serious!" says Mina. "Denki, back me up!"

Denki yawns loudly. "She's right, Kyouka. We saw him yesterday. He came and knocked on the council door and everything."

"I don't know how you guys missed that," says Tsuyu with her usual bluntness. "I could hear it all the way through the building. The guy isn't exactly quiet."

"Oh, well _pardon me_ if I wasn't paying attention," snarks Kyouka. "It was a day off, after all."

"Too busy making out with Momo?"

" _Denki!_ "

Eijirou has had enough. He loves his friends, and their antics are endlessly amusing, but after the story he'd heard last night he really isn't in the mood. "Guys, would you shut up?" he snaps, and they fall silent.

"Whoa, Eijirou, you okay, dude?" asks Denki, frowning.

Eijirou sighs loudly. He doesn't know how to explain what happened last night, and it's not his story to tell anyway. The council will fill them in later, or at least he assumes they will, but for now all he can do is spy on Endeavor and report back what he's up to. Maybe he'll be able to help his new friends, even if just a little.

That is, if his older friends will just _shut up already_.

"Listen," he says. "This is serious. Todoroki rarely ever leaves Endeavor. And knocking on the council's front door? That's a big deal. Now he's called a rally or something, and who _knows_ what he's up to." His friends' faces are falling, expressions becoming more serious as they seem to register what he's saying. "Can we at least try to act like this is important?"

"Of course," says Momo. There's a curious glint in her eye like she wants to ask more, but thankfully she doesn't, or at least not right away. As they begin moving again, she falls back to walk beside him, eyebrows drawn together.

"Eijirou?"

"What?"

He glances to the side; Momo is chewing on her lip, curiosity and compassion clashing with her insecurities and lack of confidence. "Does this have something to do with those kids you came in with yesterday?"

Eijirou sighs again and runs a hand down his face. Of course she'd make the connection; Momo is the smartest out of all of them.

"Yeah."

"Oh," says Momo, and her voice is small, but she leaves it at that.

* * *

"People of Yuuei," says Endeavor, voice booming above the crowd with such power that the people tremble. He stands on a raised platform usually intended for auctions, arms folded in front of his chest and mouth a severe line across his face. Flames flicker around him, casting bizarre shadows across the crowd.

He's more than impressive; he's majestic.

"Seven years ago, our world was changed forever," he continues. "None of us were untouched. The Great Ice hurt everyone and has been heralded by many as the apocalypse. And yet here we are." He raises his arms and gestures to the crowd, to the city full of people who are still impossibly alive.

The marketplace fills with cheers and Eijirou grimaces. Denki raises a fist in the air and pumps it up and down, and Mina is grinning, but their eyes are wary. Tsuyu shifts uncomfortably and out of the corner of his eye Eijirou catches Momo glancing sideways at him.

"Many of you have heard the rumors of the Ice King," says Endeavor, and Eijirou's stomach drops. _Oh, no_. "Well, I am here to tell you that those rumors are true! The villain who is responsible for the Great Ice is alive and well!"

A loud booing sweeps across the crowd and Endeavor nods sagely.

Eijirou's barely seen him at all and he already hates him. _How unmanly he is, that lying bastard_.

"Should he not be brought to justice?" continues Endeavor, voice rising above the crowd that grows more and more excited with every word he says. "Should he not pay for his crimes?"

"I don't like this," murmurs Fumikage, and Eijirou agrees. This is bad.

"What if I were to tell you," says Endeavor, grinning, and Eijirou knows what he's going to say in the moment before he says it. "That the Ice King is here in this very city?"

The crowd goes _mad_. Everyone is screaming and pushing, clambering towards the platform and shouting questions. And Endeavor, standing above them all, just smiles and smiles as his flames burn and burn.

"What if I were to tell you that you _council_ knows?" roars Endeavor. "What if I were to tell you that they are harboring him even now?"

"Oh, shit," says Eijirou.

"Is it true?!" shouts an old man from near the platform. "Is it true?!"

"It's true!" cries Endeavor. "Your council is protecting him! They refuse to bring him to justice! They did not even warn you about the danger to your livelihoods!

"But I will not be so lenient!" Endeavor raises both fists in the air. "I spoke to your council and they slammed the door in my face! They refused diplomacy! _Will you stand for this?_ "

" _No!_ "

"Then go to your council!" commands Endeavor, voice lowering but somehow still carrying across the masses. "Demand they hand over the criminal. Bring him to me and I will ensure you are given justice!"

"I'll kill him myself!" shouts a young woman from the middle of the crowd, and Eijirou's veins fill with ice. Endeavor turns to her and raises a hand, palm open.

"That wouldn't be fair, would it?" he asks. "Should the Ice King not suffer the way he has made you suffer?"

The crowd roars in agreement.

"Then bring him to me alive, and I will make certain that he does!" Endeavor raises his fists once more, lifted skywards on the cries of the people, and then steps down from the stage.

"Eijirou _what the fuck_ ," hisses Denki. His friends are crowding around him now but Eijirou just shakes his head and takes off running.

"I'll fill you in later!" he cries, and heads for the council building. He can hear them following, but he ignores them. He has to get to the council as soon as he can, he has to _warn_ them—

All he can think of is the look in Shouto's eyes when he was telling his story. All he can think of is that pain.

Shouto Todoroki is not a criminal, he's a victim.

 _Fuck you, Endeavor_ , thinks Eijirou, and pushes himself faster.

* * *

The city is screaming.

Izuku paces back and forth in front of the window. He doesn't like this. He doesn't like this at all. Shouto is curled up on his bed, eyes following Izuku's movements, neither of them saying anything.

The door slams open. Kacchan is standing there, eyes burning and smoke pouring from his clenched fists.

Izuku stops pacing.

"Deku. Half-and-half." Kacchan's voice is oddly low, and dread writhes hot and heavy in Izuku's stomach.

"What's wrong?"

"You're not going to like it."

Izuku turns to meet Shouto's gaze. His friend's face is pale and his hands are shaking.

"Of course we aren't," says Shouto, voice slightly shrill. "What about this situation is there for us to like?"

Kacchan sighs and leans heavily against the doorframe.

"It's Endeavor. He's coming for you."


	19. climax

**Warnings: I don't really know how to warn for this chapter. Just know that it covers some dark themes such as loss, vengeance, fear, anger, and abuse.**

* * *

 **i. anchor**

It's all a blur.

There are voices and faces around them, pushing them and pulling them through the building— _go there. Wait here. Talk to this person._

And through it all, they are inseparable, their clasped hands an anchor within the madness.

* * *

 **ii. commotion**

It goes something like this:

Endeavor is outside, surrounded by a mob of people calling for blood. Calling for _Shouto's_ blood. They're banging on the doors, the walls; their voices are shrill in the mid-morning air.

Within the council building, the leaders and their students work to protect the group who have so recently flown under their watch.

Without, two men try to curb the storm.

They are not particularly successful.

* * *

 **iii. bracing**

"Are you ready?" asks Shouta. His expression is blank but his eyes are steel.

His husband sighs and runs a hand through yellow hair, greasy and tangled by a night without rest. "No," he says truthfully, and despite his usual volume he is almost unheard beneath the screams on the other side of the wall.

"Neither am I," says Shouta, pulling his scarf of metal weave loose around his shoulders. "But preparedness holds no matter in our actions, does it?"

"I suppose," says Hizashi, "that that is just the nature of our job."

Shouta nods and reaches out a hand to squeeze Hizashi's shoulder. It is bracing, though brief, and their spines straighten in unison.

"Well," says Shouta, turning towards the door. "Time to face the beast."

* * *

 **iv. crowd**

There's an interesting phenomena within a mob.

Logically, the people know that this is unreasonable. They know that Endeavor's story is nonsensical, that he could be lying, that he is an enemy to their council. They know, deep down, that this is wrong.

But they are angry. They are hurt. They are afraid. And they have been like this for a very long time.

When one's world has shattered to pieces for no visible reason, it becomes almost crucial to find someone to blame. When one is at their limit, a powerful figure with powerful words is all it takes to tip the scale.

The Ice King is a scapegoat that has been nothing but a fairy tale. Now he's real, and he's here, and the people want revenge.

A woman cries out for the death of her children. A man screams vengeance for the loss of his brother.

Endeavor is not a good person. He is not a good father, a good husband, a good leader.

He is, however, an excellent orator. Which is to say: he knows exactly how to work a crowd. He tunes them up like a violin, plucking at their strings and skating bow over screaming, hysterical chords that rise above, turning all minds frantic and all hearts to flame.

He knows what he wants and he is very, very close to getting it.

A few walls away, the scapegoat trembles into the arms of his guardian.

* * *

 **v. choices**

Toshinori is pacing.

He is golden beneath the window-light, silhouetted into the shadow of the man he once was, before he was broken and made into a shell of his own being. His eyes are burning like miniature stars, his mouth a firm line that is stronger than steel.

"We have two options," he says.

Izuku's hands dance at his sides, fingers opening into and out of a fist. Shouto is quiet at his side, their shoulders pressed together and connecting their strength and their warmth.

"One," says Toshinori, "we hide you here, in this building. We guard your hiding place until the crowd can be coaxed back to reason."

He doesn't say, _or until they break down the doors and drag you into the streets._

"Or two," he pulls a second finger out of his fist and taps it with its opposite, "you run. We help you run. We take the back door and sneak you out of the building, to a hidden safehouse on the outskirts of the city where you will wait until reason returns to the people."

He doesn't say, _but you could be caught on the journey, and beaten down before our very eyes._

"So really," says Izuku, and he is surprised by the levelness of his own voice, "we only have one choice. We hide. We hide here, or we hide elsewhere."

Toshinori nods silently.

There's a particularly loud yell from outside, and Shouto flinches. Izuku bites his lip and pulls him closer.

"How likely is it," says Shouto with a voice like broken glass, "that the people will be talked down quickly?"

The answer is in Toshinori's eyes even before he says it. The people are no longer individuals; they are a mob, a tidal wave, unstoppable and unreasonable.

"Then our only choice is to run," says Shouto, and that is that.

* * *

 **vi. speech**

"Heeeeeey!" shouts Hizashi. His breath rushes in and out of his lungs in a rush of Kosei-manipulated air and brings his volume up to an unbelievable level. "Everybody be quiet!"

The crowd hushes for a moment, enough so that Hizashi can hear Shouta close the door behind them. Then there's an explosion of sound as the people start shouting question after question at them.

"Shut up!" he calls, and they quiet once more, though there is hushed muttering sweeping across the street.

"Listen, we have everything under control! We are your leaders! We strive only to protect you!" Shouta moves forward a step and Hizashi nods at him. "Aizawa will explain!"

"Enji Todoroki is not your leader," says Shouta bluntly, without preamble. "He does not care for your wellbeing. He cares only for his own selfish desires and he is manipulating you so as to get what he wants."

"So he's lying, then?!" cries a woman from among the crowd. She raises a fist above her head and burns daggers into them with her stare.

There's a moment of terrible silence, and Hizashi knows in that instant that this is not going to go well.

"Not exactly," says Shouta calmly, and the crowd erupts into insanity once again.

"If you just let us explain—" Hizashi begins, but the crowd is rushing forward and Koseis are starting to activate. The people are wild, like creatures possessed, and they are single-minded in their anger.

They will not listen to reason. Hizashi will continue to try, but he knows they will not listen.

In all of the confusion, he does not notice that Endeavor is nowhere to be seen.

* * *

 **vii. vengeance**

"He killed my son," says an old man, fists coated in dirt and eyes glistening with rage. "He ruined my life."

"I am blind in one eye," says a woman, thick tears in her throat. "Because of his ice."

"My wife cannot walk," says another woman. "Her spine was shattered and she nearly died. It is a miracle that she lived, if it can truly be called a life when she cannot leave our bed. That bastard should _pay_ for what he's done."

"How dare they keep him from us," says the crowd.

"How dare they admit to having him but refuse to let us in," says the crowd.

"How dare they," they say. "How dare they."

 _What will you do?_ asks Endeavor's voice in their ears.

"We will have vengeance," answer the people. "We will have our revenge for the suffering he has caused."

 _And how will you do it?_

"We will drag him to the streets and make him pay."

* * *

 **viii. students**

"So is it true?" asks Denki, breathless. "Is he really the Ice King?"

"Did he really do what they say?" asks Mina. "Did he cause the Great Ice?"

"But how?" wonders Tooru. "I saw him, he's a kid like us. How would he do that?"

"And why?" says Momo, sounding distraught. "He didn't look evil, why would he—"

Eijirou raises his hands and waves them about until they stop. "Listen," he says, and thinks of wide blue-and-gray eyes that swim with fear and sadness. "I can't tell you everything. It's a long story and not mine to tell. But the short story is yes, he's the Ice King, and yes, he caused the Great Ice. I don't know how he did it, but I do know he didn't mean to. He was young and afraid and he lost control."

"What happened to him?" whispers Momo, and Eijirou remembers that it had been she who opened the door for them yesterday.

"Too much," says Eijirou. "He's been through too much. And this?" He gestures vaguely at the window, somehow indicating the city's hysteria and calls for blood in a single movement. "He doesn't deserve this."

"Can we help?" asks Tsuyu.

"Yeah," says Eijirou. "Here's how."

* * *

 **ix. plan**

The plan:

-Shouto Todoroki needs to escape.

-He cannot stay here; they would find him. He must be hidden. He must be hidden somewhere else.

-He will be taken to the safehouse.

-He will leave through the back door. He will not be alone. He will be with his protectors: those who he came with, and those who now join him.

-His escorts are:

-Nemuri Kayama. Eijirou Kirishima. Tsuyu Asui. Fumikage Tokoyami. Kyouka Jirou.

-(To lead the way. To stand by their side. To take the high ground. To hide them in shadow. To listen for trouble, and send word for help.)

-His guardians are:

-Ochako Uraraka. Tenya Iida. Katsuki Bakugou.

-(To lift him up. To push him forward. To watch his back.)

-His savior is:

-Izuku Midoriya.

-(To be his support. To be his anchor. To be with him, always.)

-The remaining students and the rest of the council will provide a diversion. It is risky to leave him so unguarded but the larger the group, the more likely they are to be noticed.

-He will be frightened. He will be freezing and burning.

-(Izuku Midoriya will be holding his hand. This touch will still his heart.)

-They will go now. They must go now. Their window is closing.

 _-Go. Go now!_

* * *

 **x. background**

Enji is not an idiot.

His son will not fight him. He will be hiding.

The people will not find him inside the building.

Enji is not built for stealth, but he never was a fool. He slips into the shadows.

He heads for his son.

* * *

 **xi. confrontation**

It seems, for a moment, like everything is going to be alright. Like they're actually going to get away. They exit the building unhindered, slipping silently out into the daylight, and Izuku's hand is warm in his. They're completely surrounded, but for once the people surrounding them are here to help, not hurt.

Shouto, for all his fear, almost feels safe.

"It's gonna be okay," whispers Izuku. Shouto starts to nod, but then the girl with the short black hair stiffens in front of him and dread rushes through his veins. He watches as if in slow motion as her mouth opens (to call out a warning, to hurry them away from danger) and then there is a heavy footfall on the pavement behind them.

Shouto knows that footfall. He knows this fear.

He knows them like he knows the voice that calls out his name, loud and angry. This is the familiarity of flames.

The group stops its movement and turns as one, and everything around Shouto disappears. He's alone, he's falling, and there's nothing to save him now.

Because just a few paces away, wreathed in flame and fists at the ready, stands his father.

* * *

 **xii. climax**

"Shouto," growls Endeavor.

"No," whispers Shouto.

There's a tidal wave of sound and motion and suddenly the narrow street is full of people. From behind Endeavor, from in between the buildings, the crowd is here and they're coming for him. They are angry. They are vengeful.

Izuku is pulling on his arm and shouting at him, but Shouto can't hear a word. He can't hear the people screaming for his blood, or the panicked cries of his friends.

It's just him and Endeavor. The same as it's been for so, so long.

And there are others here, to protect him, but they are occupied with the crowd. There are hands reaching for him, friend and foe, and he can't bring himself to care.

Not long ago, across a brief stretch of time that feels like an eternity, Shouto had faced his father across a scarred courtyard and thought, _this will stop when I best him. When I best him, I may kill him._

He'd known, even then, that this day would come; that the training would cease and he would face his father in a true battle. He'd known that this day would decide his future.

It doesn't matter that his friends are reaching out for him. It doesn't matter that Izuku had promised to protect him.

That day has come and there's nothing anyone can do to prevent it.

Shouto takes a deep breath and readies himself for the fight.

* * *

 **i bet you all hate me, huh. well just you wait until next chapter. (actually bc i forgot to post here for. a while. you get three chapters at once so you don't have to wait at all.)**

 **WE ARE CLOSING IN ON THE END, FOLKS. Two chapters left! (I think.)**


	20. confrontation

**BUCKLE UP, FOLKS, THIS IS A WILD RIDE.**

 **Also, please refrain from murdering me until you've read the whole thing.**

 **Warnings: violence, child abuse, various non-graphic injuries.**

* * *

Everything happens all at once.

The crowd is surging in, and Izuku's heart rate is rising, and Shouto's hand in his is growing hotter and hotter as steam slowly fills the air. The situation has spun so far out of control that it's as if it was never in control in the first place, and if he's honest Izuku knows this is the truth.

Shigaraki's words from earlier echo in his ears. _Every chessboard has two colors._ He'd been right, Izuku realizes; they are caught in a game of chess, but they are not the players.

No. They're just the pawns.

Shouto's grip is uncomfortably tight. Izuku glances to the side and registers the unnatural stillness of his friend's expression and the ice curling at his cheek.

He's panicking.

"Shouto," says Izuku. "Shouto, Shouto, stay with me—"

Shouto's eyes meet his for just a moment and they are full of fear. His lips form Izuku's name soundlessly, and then the crowd closes in and Izuku has to drop his grasp in order to fight them off.

"Snap out of it!" shouts Izuku as he ducks under a brick and socks his attacker directly in the nose. The attacker, a young man with dirt on his fingers, goes down hard in a spurt of blood and curses. Izuku steps over him and pushes back towards where Shouto is still standing, frozen.

"Hey!" He brings both hands up to grasp Shouto's shoulders and shakes him, hard. "I know you're scared, okay? But don't give up on me! We'll get through this!"

Shouto blinks, glaze clearing somewhat from his eyes. "Okay," he says shakily, and Izuku _really_ wants to pull him close, but there's a woman shooting flames at them so instead he drags Shouto out of the way and runs at the woman, ducking low to sweep her legs out from under her. Once she's down, it's on to the next attacker, and then the next.

There's very little breathing room, but in the pauses he does get Izuku scans the crowd to get a feel for where the rest of his friends and the council escort are. It's hard to tell, considering his height when compared to most of the people around him, but he does manage to spot a few of them: bursts of smoke and vehement cursing identify Kacchan, a dark swirl of shadow must be Fumikage, the council student, and Ochako's head can be seen rising above the crowd occasionally as she manipulates the air around her. All in all, they seem to be holding their own, but the numbers are so unfavorable that they are making no headway in winning.

A punch sails past Izuku's ear and he dodges just in time. A good thing, too; it's coated in earth, much in the style that Eijirou seems to prefer. Izuku grabs onto the arm, fingers digging into the dirt, and redirects his attacker's momentum so that they're sent stumbling away from him. There's a movement behind him and Izuku sends an elbow backwards. There's an unpleasant crunch as someone's nose breaks.

Izuku frowns unhappily. It feels wrong to be hurting these people. This is not like their earlier fight in the alleyway; these are not bad people. They are frightened ones who are being manipulated by an evil man.

Dodge. Uppercut. Roundhouse. Sidestep. Block. His Kosei flows faintly through his veins, boosting power into his fists, but he holds it back for fear of losing control. He doesn't want to do any damage that will prove irreparable, and he doesn't want to run the risk of overdoing it and hurting _himself_.

"Sho—"

There's a jolt down Izuku's spine as realization strikes. Panic rising, he cranes his neck over the crowd and realizes he doesn't see the familiar red-and-white hair anywhere.

"Shit," hisses Izuku.

Shouto is nowhere to be seen.

Someone grabs his elbow and Izuku whirls. He registers who it is at the very last second and just barely manages to stop himself from punching Tenya in the face. Izuku lets out a wordless exclamation and latches on to his friend's shoulders.

"Tenya!" he gasps. "Where's Shouto?"

Tenya blinks at him, alarmed. "I thought he was with you?"

"He was! But then…" Izuku glances around frantically, but Shouto is still nowhere in sight. "I don't know where he went!"

"Izuku, calm down." Tenya's eyes catch and hold his, and Izuku drinks desperately from their solidity. "We'll find him."

"But—"

"Izuku! Breathe!"

Izuku nods once, then twice, then a third time for good measure. "Ok," he says. "Ok."

"We need to work together to—"

Whatever Tenya is trying to stay is abruptly cut off as their respite ends and the crowd moves in again. Back to back, they kick and punch and _fight_ , snow rising through the air as Tenya's wind whips through the crowd. Izuku's curls dance across his forehead, falling into his eyes on occasion, but he ignores this the same way he ignores the bruises and scrapes forming on his body and the ache in his muscles from the beginnings of overexertion. He ignores everything not integral to the fight, because now it is more important than ever that he win. He has a goal, now: to find Shouto amidst the chaos and shelter him from harm.

He'd made a promise to protect him, and it's one he intends to keep.

* * *

Shouto's not sure how it happened.

One minute Izuku had been at his side, and the next he was lost in a sea of angered faces. They crowd in on all sides, reaching to tear at his face and clothing and _shouting_ , _cursing_ his name.

The worst part is he doesn't blame them. But oh, the _shouting_.

"You _monster_!" spits a woman, vines curling around her arms and reaching to tug viciously at his hair. Shouto pulls away and opens his mouth to respond, but a shard of ice glances past his cheek and draws blood. He steps to the side and straight into the chest of a large man with blinding light pouring from his fingertips.

The man latches onto his shoulders and the heat there is _intense_. "Why would you?" shouts the man, and there are tears on his cheeks. "Why would you do something so terrible?"

"I'm sorry," says Shouto, but his words fall on deaf ears. "I'm so sorry. I'm sorry, I—"

Shadow curls around the man and snuffs out his light. The boy from the council escort, Fumikage, pushes towards Shouto and grabs his wrist. "Run," he orders, voice low and serious as he drags people down with their own shadows. " _Run_."

Shouto steps back. "You—"

"Don't worry about us," says Fumikage, hands swirling with darkness that solidifies to snuff out a plume of flame headed directly for Shouto's head. "We're here to protect you, so _go_." He points over the crowd towards an alleyway and makes sure Shouto sees where he's indicating before dropping the gesture. "Go there. Kyouka's waiting. She'll take you to the safehouse."

"Thank you," gasps Shouto. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me. Just _go_."

Shouto goes.

* * *

He makes it halfway to the alleyway, pushing and fighting his way through a crowd that calls for his blood. He can see it now, can see the ripples of air that must be Kyouka's defense, and for one moment of glimmering hope he thinks he'll make it.

Then the crowd stills.

A murmur passes through the people and then they go silent. Like the seas parting, a path forms in the crowd, and then Shouto is standing alone.

Well. Not quite.

"Shouto," growls Endeavor. "Haven't you enough of running away?"

Shouto's heart pounds in his throat and suddenly his mouth feels like sandpaper. Years and years of conditioned fear comes slamming in like a wave and he reacts the only way he knows how; by turning to ice, the ice that Izuku has only just thawed. He feels it as his face turns to stone, and he knows by the mingled expressions of disgust and terror that the crowd sees it too. This is not the frightened boy that had been running away; this is the Ice King who ended the world.

Distantly, Shouto still hears the sounds of fighting: clearly, not everyone got the message.

"Father," says Shouto, and it tastes like poison in his mouth.

A gasp ripples through the crowd. _So you didn't tell them that? Coward._

Endeavor grins, flames flickering brighter around his face. "Time to go home, Shouto," he says. "Time to pay for your actions."

"I won't go," says Shouto, braver than he feels. "I've had enough."

"You can't run forever." His father's voice is gravel and smoke, and he takes a menacing step forward as he speaks. It takes everything Shouto has not to flinch. "Stop being such a child and take some damn responsibility for your actions."

Shouto wants to laugh at that, but he thinks if he does he'll start crying and then he'll have lost. "You're right, I can't run forever. But you could leave. You could forget about me and start over. If I'm so damn _useless_ why do you need me?"

"I think we both know how this is going to end."

Shouto swallows. It's true. There is no universe in which Endeavor will leave without a fight.

"I'm stronger than you think," he says. "I have more reason to try."

Endeavor's lips twist up into an ugly snarl and he raises a fist in Shouto's direction. "If you're so strong," he says, "then show me."

Fear and adrenaline course through Shouto's veins but he pushes both away. Now is not the time. Now he must be strong.

He thinks of Izuku's smile, eyes bright like the stars. He thinks of Bakugou's fierce protection, of Ochako's gentle acceptance, of Tenya's loyal courage.

He has to get through this. He has no choice.

"Fine."

And that's how it begins.

* * *

Endeavor has the obvious advantage.

He's bigger, he's older, he's stronger. He has more experience and he has the crowd on his side.

What Shouto has going for him is pure desperation. If he's going to win this, it's going to be because he wants it more. To Endeavor, this is nothing but a game—or an irritation, at most—but to Shouto this is a live-or-die situation. He can't go back to the way things were. He _can't._

Shouto plants his feet in the ground and pushes, water swirling and freezing almost instantly until there is a wall of ice between him and his father. Not a moment too soon, either; fire roars from behind it, and distorted by the crystalline structure of the ice he can see Endeavor's scowl.

"Use your fire, Shouto," growls Endeavor. "Or do you _want_ me to beat you?"

Shouto's heart stutters in his chest. He's done obeying his father, but the fact of the matter is that he's _right._ Shouto will never win using his ice alone.

The crowd is still, forming a murmuring circle around them. They are watching him with curious eyes, and if he were less distracted he would notice the hesitation growing amongst them. Endeavor had said nothing of the Ice King's youth, or of the fact that he is his son.

Also, there's something painful in rooting against such an obvious underdog.

Shouto doesn't notice this, though. All he sees is flame and ice and flying fists. He's dodging and darting and fighting for all he's worth, but it's not enough. Bruises and burns appear on his arms and legs and torso, and blood runs down the side of his neck from where a shard of his own ice had nicked his ear.

It's the same as it's always been, except that it's not. He's fought Endeavor before, but never like this. This is something more vicious, more desperate. The blows they exchange are not meant to train or to punish; they are to tame, or to escape.

It's not long before Shouto abandons his attacks and falls completely to the defensive. Endeavor is powerful and unrelenting, and for his size he moves remarkably quickly. It's all Shouto can do just to stay standing.

He treads backwards even as Endeavor pushes towards him, and the crowd parts to let them through. The air is thick with steam and smoke and Shouto's breath is heavy in his throat, and it's hard to say whether it's a result of the poor air quality or from his unshed tears.

It was foolish of him to think he could escape. This last week has been a dream, yes, but all dreams must end.

And now it's time for him to wake up.

"Why won't you use it, you fool?" asks Endeavor in a rush of flame that leaves Shouto's hair singed. "You can't win without it!"

"I won't," says Shouto through gritted teeth. "I can't."

It's _his_. He can't, because it's _his_ , and if he does he will become everything that Endeavor has wanted of him. He will become the villain these people already think he is.

"Use it!" roars Endeavor, and this time the accompanying blow sends Shouto crashing to the ground.

Shouto spits out blood and pours all the contempt he can manage into a single glare. "No."

"Then you've lost," says Endeavor, triumphant grin curling across his face, and plants one heavy boot on Shouto's back. Black spots dance in Shouto's eyes as the pressure grows and he thinks, _this is how it ends._

" _Shouto!"_

There's a blur of motion and a crackle of light and then the weight is gone. Shouto blinks against the snow in his eyes and allows himself thirty seconds to breathe again before turning his head to see what had happened.

Endeavor's back is to him, flames raging high above his shoulders. One hand is clenched into a fist, the other pressed to a red mark on his cheek, and standing before him….

Izuku.

Green eyes lock onto Shouto and fill with terror. "Get up!" shouts Izuku. He's a mess, hair filled with ash and face smudged with dirt, the beginnings of an ugly purple bruise forming around one eye.

Shouto has never seen anything more beautiful in his life.

"Izuku," he breathes, and pushes to his knees. Something jars in his chest—a rib, maybe, that if not broken is at least bruised—and he ends up doubled over in a coughing fit.

" _Get up!"_ screams Izuku as he hurls himself at Endeavor, Kosei lit up and pouring strength into his arms and legs, lending him power and speed. Shouto blinks away tears and somehow manages to clamber to his feet.

He's shivering. God, it's so _cold._

Izuku is at his side for just a moment, light fingers brushing across his cheek and pouring energy into his veins. "Use your fire," he orders, and then he's gone again, dancing past a roaring Endeavor and hurling punch after punch at the man. Some land, some don't, but each moment of touch seems to sap more and more of his strength.

"I can't," says Shouto, sending forward a weak wave of ice that his father easily dodges. "It's his."

Izuku takes the time to shoot him a look of pure disbelief. He's starting to tire, his glow dimming and his fists trembling, and Shouto knows if he doesn't do something soon this will be over for both of them.

"It's yours!" shouts Izuku. "It's your power!"

"It's...it's _his_."

A blur of light and Izuku is standing before him, pressing their foreheads together. "It's yours, Shouto. All of it is yours."

And something clicks.

" _You little brat!"_ Endeavor is angrier than Shouto's ever seen him, stalking forward with murderous intent. " _You're the one who stole him, aren't you?! You're the bastard who turned him away from my side!"_

"I didn't _steal him,_ " spits Izuku. "He was never _yours."_

Shouto reaches out to take Izuku's hand. The world goes deathly silent but for the roaring in his ears.

He takes a deep breath and bursts into flames.

Endeavor's eyes go wide with glee and his mouth opens as if to speak, but they do not give him the chance. They move in unison, two halves of a whole, two souls born as one; Shouto's flames warm Izuku's skin and Izuku's Kosei rages through their clasped hands, connecting their energy, their power, their very lives.

The fight begins in earnest, then. Their hands do not stay connected, but it doesn't matter when a glance is enough to read the every movement of the other. Shouto's heart pumps adrenaline through his veins, fear and exhaustion and desperation mingling with hope and strength and love. He punches at the same time Izuku's kicks; he dodges beneath a strike as Izuku leaps to swing at Endeavor's head.

It's almost enough.

Almost.

But they are tired. They are so, so tired. Shouto's fire melts his ice even as he hurls it forward, and sweat beads on his forehead from the effort of controlling the half of him with which he has so little practice. Stolen glances reveal that Izuku, too, is fading, his Kosei's glow fading more and more by the minute and his skin turning pink as his own control slips.

They can't keep this up for much longer. All it will take is one mistake, one misstep, and this will be over.

It happens in slow motion. Endeavor's fist blazes through the air, headed for Izuku, and Shouto's mouth opens to shout out a warning, but he's _too slow, too late._

The blow lands solidly against Izuku's temple and he crumples, Kosei flickering out.

"I've had enough of you," growls Endeavor. "Meddlesome _bastard_."

Fire blossoms in the palm of his hand and then Shouto is _running_. Ice forms beneath his feet, easing his movement, and in a heartbeat he is before his father, one arm outstretched as if to ward of the attack and the other pushing Izuku behind him, using his body to shield him.

Endeavor freezes.

" _Move_."

Shouto _does not flinch_. Instead he musters every ounce of his courage and forms it into one word, one word that he should have spoken years ago but had been too afraid to try.

"No."

"You _insolent_ —"

There's a tug at Shouto's shirt as Izuku's fingers curl into the fabric. "Shouto," he gasps. " _Don't_."

Shouto swallows thickly. "I don't have a choice," he murmurs.

"Shouto—"

"I'm not moving," says Shouto, to Izuku and to Endeavor. He fixes his eyes on his father's own raging gaze, and fire singes the air between them. "I refuse."

"Then I'll kill you both," threatens Endeavor, fire turning white hot in his hand. "I swear to god, Shouto, I'll—"

Shouto lifts his chin high in the air and reaches trembling fingers to interlace with Izuku's. "Then do it."

"What?" Endeavor freezes again, flames flickering out for just a moment in shock. The crowd gasps almost in unison, muttering rising into a wave that sweeps across the street.

"Kill me."

Endeavor stares at him as the whole world seems to hang in the balance. For a moment, just a moment, Shouto thinks, _maybe he sees me._

And then crimson eyes harden and he knows it is over. The flames expand and Endeavor raises both hands in the air.

Shouto closes his eyes.

"Izuku," he whispers. "I—"

" _Endeavor!"_

Shouto's eyes fly open again as the muttering of the crowd turns into exclamations of shock. Endeavor is turning towards the source of the voice, and then he is falling, and Toshinori Yagi is standing over him with a glowing fist raised high in the air.

"Don't worry," says the former king of the Middle Kingdom, smiling at Shouto with old, old eyes. "I'm here now."

Izuku chokes out a sob and buries his face into the back of Shouto's neck.

* * *

It's over very quickly after that; Toshinori is able to keep Endeavor down long enough for Aizawa to appear and restrain him. He's taken away through a crowd held at bay by serious-faced council members and students with excitement-flushed cheeks. The fighting is over, and Shouto is free, and shouting fills the air from the crowd and from his allies, but he hears none of it.

All he hears is Izuku sobbing in his ear, and the blood rushing through his head.

Shouto turns so that he is facing Izuku and pulls him close. "It's over," chokes out Izuku. "We did it."

"It's over," repeats Shouto, still half in-shock, and then Izuku is kissing him.

Shouto feels like he's been run through with electricity. It's like the clouds have burst apart and the ice has cracked, like the moment after an eclipse when the shadows roll away over the horizon. It's like the breaking dawn, or the tide coming in, or a meteor shower blazing through the stars.

The kiss, in actuality, is a short one. Short, yet soft, yet momentous. Shouto tries to speak but he's frozen in place, completely stunned.

Izuku's face is the reddest he's ever seen it. He looks even more shocked than Shouto feels, like the kiss had been an impulse he'd acted on without a moment's thought.

"Oh," says Izuku, hands flying up to cover his face. "I'm so sorry, I didn't—"

Shouto reaches out and pulls Izuku's hands away. They're warm and soft, just like Izuku, just like his kiss. Around them, the crowd is murmuring and pointing and _looking_ , but none of that matters because Izuku has just kissed him and for the first time in a long while, everything seems right.

Shouto wants to kiss him again.

So he does.

"Shouto?" breathes Izuku once they part. His eyes are wet.

"It's been a long time coming, hasn't it?" asks Shouto, smiling.

Izuku's face breaks out into a grin and he laughs through the tears that are beginning to stream silently down his face. "Yeah," he rasps. "I suppose it has."

* * *

 **Listen. Ok, LISTEN. If I just had them kiss it wouldn't have meant anything. You had to EARN it.**

 **Also, this was a shorter chapter, and yes, I COULD have kept going, but I figure that was a good place to stop.**


	21. restoration

**K so it's not the last chapter anymore. Almost, but not quite. It's over 5000 words so I had to stop. After this is the epilogue and then that's the end of Icefall. I know, WOW.**

 **This chapter has a lot of three things: growth, tears, and bs science. Bear with me on the last one.**

 **Sorry for the wait. Hope you enjoy.**

* * *

The world filters back in pieces.

Shouting voices. Hot blood on his cheek. Footsteps on the snow.

Shouto drags himself away from Izuku's star-bright eyes and slowly climbs to his feet, holding out a hand to pull Izuku with him. They're both shaky, leaning on each other for balance, but they are alive.

They're alive.

"What's going on?" calls the crowd. "Who is in the right? Who is in the wrong? What is the truth?"

They want answers, and Shouto is the only who can provide.

"Shouto," murmurs Izuku, breathe warm against his ear. Shouto closes his eyes for just a moment and clings tightly to the hands of his friend…(his love?)

"I know," he says, soft and shaking, but there is a note of resignation to it. He's always known, in some way, that this would be how it would end; he hasn't known in so many words, but a part of him had realized long ago that he would have to speak his story into the greater world and live with whatever consequences would follow.

The people of Yuuei have been fed lie after lie. Now they deserve the truth.

Shouto stands at a crossroads. Before him lies his future, a future of possibilities, and behind him is a past full of pain. It's time, he thinks, to leave that past and that pain in the dust and to step into a new day.

Around him are the faces of the people who had called for his blood and now stand in wait for him to speak his part. Their lives, just as his, are hung on the thread of his words.

Shouto inhales deeply.

"My name is Shouto Todoroki," he says. "And this is how it began."

* * *

It began like this:

A man, and his greed. A boy, and his pain.

And, for better or for worse, this is how it ends:

A boy, and his love, and his words. A world, and its willingness to condemn, or its willingness to forgive.

And this is how it ends: with Izuku's hand in his, and Izuku's strength at his back, and Shouto's breath on the air, lips still buzzing from the taste of their kiss.

* * *

"And now I am here," says Shouto, clutching Izuku like a lifeline. "I stand before you and I await your judgement." He bows his head low. "And I ask your forgiveness."

He says it bravely, or at least he hopes he does. He hopes they do not see the fire raging just beneath his skin, the fear in his eyes. He hopes, too, that they do not see him as monster, but as the boy that he is, as the child fleeing his father's iron fist.

Perhaps, he thinks, it would be better after all if they did see his fear. If they saw the desperation with which he holds onto Izuku, if they saw the yearning desire to fix his mistakes. Fear, he knows, is something so viscerally human; the monster he's been painted as would feel no fear, only rage.

The crowd murmurs, leaning into each other and discussing his words. Shouto can't quite hear everything they're saying, but detached words do reach him: _mistake_ and _Endeavor_ and _child_ , among others.

Izuku steps in closer so that his body is pressed against Shouto's back. His curls whisper faintly past Shouto's cheek as he looks about and Shouto feels a tremor down his spine. This is a warmth that he has never known, and even dirty and frightened as he is, he cannot help but be grateful for this, whatever _this_ is.

An old man steps forward and the crowd silences. Shouto finds himself locked in the gaze of steel-gray eyes, piercing and eternal like a winter moon. Time stretches between them and no words are spoken, but the man is looking into his soul and Shouto is certain that he can hear his thoughts.

Then the man blinks, and a small, wry smile crosses his lips from beneath his wiry gray beard. "I cannot presume to speak for everyone here," he says with a voice craggy like the glacier ice, "but I believe I will speak for many when I say that I find your story quite moving."

Shouto stands frozen, heart in his throat, and does not say a thing. He does not think that, even if he wanted to, he could speak a single word.

"It is undeniable fact that the Great Ice has hurt us all," continues the man. "And yet something we have all failed to consider is the fact that it has also hurt its originator, and, in fact, stems from that self-same pain. For this lack of thought, I apologize."

There's a rippling murmur through the crowd, of agreement or dissent, before they quiet once more.

"The Ice King has been made out to be a murderer." Shouto flinches but the man is not finished. "I think it would be true to say that all of us, blinded by fear and loss as we were, did not think to question this. We have been manipulated easily by the former king of the North Kingdom, turned into nothing but means to his own end. We have been made into pawns, and we did not realize that we called for the blood of a boy who has been a pawn for far longer. And it is easy to see, now, that you are a just boy; only a child who has fallen, but who strives to stand once again. It would be unjust to punish you for an act of retaliation to pain done by an adult's hand. The truth, I think, is that the blame lies with Enji Todoroki, and not yourself."

Shouto sucks in a breath that tastes of charcoal and snow. He's shaking so badly that he thinks if it were not for Izuku, he wouldn't be able to stay standing.

Tears prick at his eyes as the man bows low, back parallel to the ground. "You are forgiven," says the man, and the world blurs.

Shouto's knees buckle as years and years of pain and guilt rise up through his throat and out of his mouth. He starts to fall but Izuku is there, holding him up, holding him tight, soft words whispered into his ears that he does not understand but appreciates anyway. He's clinging to Izuku and sobbing and the air is full of the voices of Yuuei's people, saying _I'm sorry_ and _poor child_ and _we forgive_. It feels like the world has fractured into millions and millions of shining pieces, like the Great Ice but in reverse as his guilt shatters at his feet, as his heart thaws completely and his guard finally drops. He's safe now. He's free.

"Let's get you inside," whispers Izuku, hands on his face. Own thumb wipes a tear from his cheekbone and Shouto looks up into glistening emerald eyes.

"Okay," he manages, before burying his head into Izuku's shoulder and allowing himself to be led back towards the council building. The crowd parts around them, the council members follow close behind them, and Izuku holds him tightly through all of it. It's overwhelming, the sound and the light and the aching bruises on his skin, but for once Shouto feels something akin to happiness because the world has been righted again.

The door of the council building closes behind them, leaving them in a dark, silent hallway. Shouto finds suddenly that even with Izuku's arms around him, he simply cannot stand anymore. He crumples to the ground and Izuku follows him until they are both sitting against the wall.

"Hey," says Izuku, voice painfully gentle. "It's okay. You're okay. It's over."

"It's over," Shouto echoes through his tears. He leans forward to press their foreheads together and squeezes his eyes shut. "It's over."

* * *

"I have something to say to you," says Izuku quietly.

They've had their wounds bandaged and now they are in the baths again. Steam fills the air between them, hot water lapping at their soot-stained skin, and they are sitting so close that it should be inappropriate but instead feels natural. Maybe in another life he would feel uncomfortable sitting naked beside another, so close that they are almost touching, but they have been through so much together that Izuku simply cannot be bothered to focus on what is appropriate or not.

Shouto turns his head towards him, wet hair falling limpy over eyes red and swollen from crying. "What is it?"

Izuku swallows and runs a finger through the water, watching the miniature whirlpools spin off in its wake before dissipating. "I've been drawn to you since the moment we met," he begins. "Your pain and your loneliness were compelling, but your strength was magnetic. I looked into your eyes and I saw someone who was kind, someone I wanted to protect."

He can feel Shouto's eyes on him but he can't bring himself to meet them. "That's why I helped you run away. That is why I've fought by your side. It's because I care for you, perhaps more than I care for anyone else."

"Izuku," says Shouto softly.

Izuku shakes his head. He's not finished. "It took me a while to realize, but when you told me your story for the first time I started to understand. And then, at the trade center, when you asked me to leave...that's when I knew, completely and without a hint of doubt."

"When you knew what?"

Now he does look up, meets eyes that glisten once again with tears. Anxiety curls poisonously in his gut, trying to seal his lips and sever his words, but Izuku thinks of the look in Shouto's eyes after they'd kissed and pushes his fears aside. He knows that this is reciprocated, has been for a while now, but it hangs between them still, unspoken and ignored.

It's time to stop pretending it isn't there. They both know.

"When I knew that I could not lose you," he says, enunciating each word so that it is clear through the steam. He does not break eye contact. "Shouto." Izuku reaches out a hand to rest against the other boy's cheek and inhales deeply against the frantic pounding of his heart.

"I love you."

Shouto leans into his palm and laughs wetly. His eyes close, lashes brushing against Izuku's skin, and he brings his own hand up to clutch at Izuku's wrist. "I don't think you know how much you mean to me," he says, quiet and fragile.

"I know how much _you_ mean to _me_."

The water splashes as Shouto leans forward and then their lips are meeting for the third time. "I love you, too," whispers Shouto into the breath of space between them.

Izuku curls both hands into Shouto's hair and laughs through salty, euphoric tears.

* * *

Ochako is grinning when they enter the waiting room they've been relegated to hand in hand. Izuku's not sure why; they've been pretty much attached to each other since she's known them, so it's not like this is much of a change. Still, given the glint in her eye, she must sense the new connection between them.

"Oh, oh yes," she says. "Oh god, finally."

"What is it?" Tenya looks up with a frown, and he makes quite the picture with the ice he's holding to his head and the crack running through one of the lenses of his glasses. He eyes Izuku and Shouto, looks back at Ochako, seems to think before a moment, and then says, "Ah, I see."

There's a loud groan from the corner. Izuku turns to see Kacchan, sprawled in a chair with his arm thrown lazily over the back. "Fucking finally," he groans, red eyes blazing into Izuku. "Took you long enough."

Izuku flushes red. "What do you mean?" he asks, even though he knows exactly what they mean.

"Goddamn was I tired of watching you dancing around each other," growls Kacchan exaggeratedly. "Just keep your sappy moon-eyes to yourselves and don't fuck where I can hear it."

" _Kacchan!"_

Ochako lets out a loud peel of laughter. "Then we're right? You confessed to each other?"

Izuku sighs and finds himself smiling despite his complete and utter embarrassment at Kacchan's crudeness. "Yes," he says. Then, "Wait. How long have you all known? Were we really that obvious?"

Tenya pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose and nods. "Forgive me for saying so, Izuku, but the two of you have been rather...transparent about your love for each other. In all honesty, it was that love for each other that is in part why I decided to help you to begin with."

"Me too," says Ochako. "I mean, we hadn't even heard your story at that point, but I remember thinking, 'someone who loves that intensely cannot possibly be evil'. So I decided that I wanted to see what kind of person you really were and to help you run from whatever was chasing you."

Shouto laughs once. Then again, and again, and when Izuku looks over he is greeted with the absolutely beautiful sight of a wide smile on Shouto's face, cheeks red with laughter.

"What's so fucking funny, shitbrain?" snaps Kacchan.

"I'm sorry." Shouto runs a hand under his eyes— _he's crying again, oh no—_ "It's just...growing up, my—Endeavor always said that emotions were a weakness, especially love. But now it turns out love was the only thing that helped me escape." His eyes, when he turns them on Izuku, are so full of light that it takes his breath away. "I guess he was wrong in more ways in one."

"He was wrong about _everything_ ," says Izuku. A scowl finds its way onto his face and he brings a fist up into the air. "That piece of _shit_ is never going near you again. I'm glad he got his ass kicked."

Kacchan snorts. "Jesus, Deku, I've never heard you curse before."

" _I hate him so much_."

Shouto is laughing again, and Izuku finds he actually can't feel hatred right now, not with the way a smile looks on Shouto's face. "I'm glad my boyfriend will always be here to protect me," he says, and Izuku freezes.

"B-boyfriend?"

"I...thought we were?" The smile falls from Shouto's face and no, no, that's not good. Izuku wants that smile to come back and never leave. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to assume—"

"Oh. My. God." Ochako is burying her face in her hands, shoulder shaking with suppressed giggles. "You two are _so useless."_

The room fills with laughter again and Izuku leans forward to kiss Shouto's cheek. "Sorry. You just surprised me, is all. Of course you're my boyfriend."

The smile returns, bright like the sun, and Izuku thinks nothing will ever feel more right.

The door swings open behind them. It's Eijirou, in a fresh set of clothes. He smiles when he sees them, and it turns into a grin as his eyes flick between Shouto's and Izuku's faces, but he doesn't comment. Instead he says, "They're waiting for you in the council room whenever you're ready."

* * *

The setting is different, this time. The tables have been pushed to the side of the room in favor of a circle of chairs. It's more friendly, more intimate. Izuku appreciates that; he's not sure his nerves could handle anything resembling an interrogation at the moment.

He sits down in a chair facing the windows, beside Toshinori. Shouto settles into the chair on his opposite side, holding tightly to his hand. Izuku offers him a smile.

"Are you alright?" asks Toshinori, voice a low rumble like shifting ice over an ocean. Izuku nods.

"Yeah. We're...I think we're alright."

"Good." A pause. Toshinori seems to be contemplating something, eyes downcast and nearly impossible to see beneath the heavy shadows of his face. "Young Shouto, I must apologize."

Shouto starts, spine straightening, head whipping sideways, and Izuku finds himself rubbing comforting circles into the back of his hand with his thumb. Those beautiful blue-and-gray eyes flick to him for a moment before returning to Toshinori.

"What for?"

"For not arriving soon enough." Toshinori's head is bowed, hands clutching at his knees. "You should not have had to fight Enji alone."

A smile flickers briefly over Shouto's face, surprising Izuku. "No, I don't think there's anything you could have done," he says. "That was a fight that had to happen eventually. If not now, then in the future. Those were my demons to conquer."

"But not alone," contends Toshinori. "You should not have had to face him alone."

Shouto is looking directly at Izuku now, and his smile is more genuine this time. Their clasped hands lift in the air, into Toshinori's line of vision, and Shouto's fingers curl tighter around his. "I wasn't alone," he says.

Something warm fills Izuku's veins. Something like sunlight on a spring day, or a warm summer breeze on the hilltops. Something like memories of blinding bright beaches and lemonade on the front porch. Something warm like the Before.

Something like his mother's arms around him. Something like Shouto's lips on his.

Izuku smiles.

They really are going to be alright.

* * *

Aizawa clears his throat and all eyes turn to him. Shouto thinks he might be intimidated, if he had not seen in brief flashes the fierce anger on the man's face when he'd restrained Endeavor, the tired eyes hiding a will to protect. Shouto is safe here, with these people. They will not let him come to harm.

"The first thing you need to know," says Aizawa, "is that Enji Todoroki is currently imprisoned in a temporary jail cell below. We must hold trial for him, but given his behavior he will likely be given a life sentence. You have nothing to fear from him anymore."

Shouto's heart does a funny little flip, like he wants to be relieved but can't quite believe it. He's been under his father's control for so long that this doesn't seem real.

"This does create a problem with his domain. Endeavor is now a power vacuum. It is one of the largest fiefdoms that we know of, so leaving it as is would be extremely dangerous. I understand that you are his heir, in which case I ask you if you wish to assume leadership."

They're all watching him now. Shouto thinks of a life alone in that castle, thinks of how it would feel to be the Lord of Endeavor—his father's title, on his shoulders, would be too much to bear.

"What would happen," says Shouto carefully, "if I chose not to?"

A smile flickers over Aizawa's lips, so quickly that it's almost unnoticeable. "Then we would move into the fief and establish control. It would become a part of Yuuei's territory and fall under our government. Its people would be treated as our own, held to the same laws and allowed to vote in our elections. Endeavor would no longer be a monarchy and you would no longer hold power as its heir. Is this what you want?"

"Yes," says Shouto, without even taking a moment to think. He doesn't need to. With Endeavor under the council's control, he will be free of all ties. He will be able to do as he wills, go where he wishes. He could look for his mother. He could stay with Izuku. He could be Shouto, just Shouto, unburdened by the Todoroki name.

This time when Aizawa smiles, it stays on his face. "Very well," he says, and turns to his fellow council members. "We'll need to start plans for establishing control."

"On it," says Nemuri. "You gonna talk about the other thing?"

"What other thing?" asks Izuku, frowning. His fingers are still interlaced with Shouto's, palms brushing and skin warm. Shouto kind of wants to cry again, overwhelmed by something like happiness; he is free from his father, free from his blood, free to love Izuku as he wishes.

"The Great Ice," says Hizashi, voice gentle despite its volume. Shouto flinches, abruptly yanked back to earth, and Izuku's fingers tighten comfortingly around his.

"The Great Ice?" echoes Shouto numbly. He thinks of the world around him, ruined and frozen, and realizes that no, he will never truly be free.

"The idea of the Ice King has never sat well with us," says Nezu. "Not to say that we do not believe your story, but it seems unreasonable that you could have caused such widespread destruction. I have been thinking, and I believe I may have found an answer."

"What sort of answer?" asks Bakugou. His eyes are like burning coals, piercing as they stare down the council. Nezu appears unperturbed.

"I have been evaluating the evidence," says Nezu. "And it seems likely that the Great Ice was caused, at least in part, by natural processes."

Something sharp travels down Shouto's spine and he sits up straighter. "What?"

"The earth follows cycles," Nezu explains. "Temperature fluctuations, from warm to cold. These fluctuations can seem minor, in the grand scheme of things, but they actually have massive consequences. The Mesozoic era, for example, went through a heat wave that was actually only six to twelve degrees celcius higher than average, while the ice ages were only about five degrees colder. These cycles happen periodically throughout earth's history, and we are long overdue."

"The earth was in between cycles," continues Aizawa calmly. "The next ice age was bound to happen at any time. All it would take would be a slight drop in the overall temperature of the earth, caused either by natural forces or by a massive surge of power."

"Me," says Shouto, and Aizawa nods.

"However," says Nezu. "It is unreasonable to think that such a surge could come from a single person. No matter how powerful your Kosei may be, it is impossible that it could have been enough to cause such an event."

Aizawa leans forward in his chair. "Prior to the Great Ice," he says, voice low like gravel. "What was the largest ice formation you could summon?"

Shouto shrugs his shoulders uncomfortably. "I don't know," he says. "Maybe a small iceberg? But I was little, then."

"And you were little when you caused the Great Ice," says Nemuri. "Yet you claim that suddenly you were able to create enough ice to start an ice age?"

"I was...it was a moment of emotional distress. I lost control."

Nezu is nodding. "And that accounts for some of the power. But you have to understand. The surge would have had to have been large enough as to affect global weather patterns. That kind of power cannot come from an individual."

"The truth of the matter," says Aizawa, "is that it is impossible for you to be solely responsible for the coming of the Great Ice."

"But I _was_ ," protests Shouto, distress curling up his throat like some sort of serpent. "I _know_ I caused it."

Hizashi raises his hands placatingly. "We know," he says. "What we're saying is it can't have _all_ been your fault. We think there are other factors at play."

By Shouto's side, Izuku is straightening with interest. "What sort of other factors?"

"In light of the recent surge of criminal activity," says Aizawa, "and with information from Yagi, we have come to the conclusion that a malevolent and clandestine organization has been at play for a long time. It is this organization that we think is responsible for your sudden explosion of power."

"How?" asks Shouto.

"Have you ever heard," says Toshinori slowly, gently, blue eyes blazing, "of a drug called Trigger?"

* * *

"You're late," says the vulture. Cold wind blows through short dark hair and he does not wince at the chill. He is carved of stone, seemingly untouched by the elements.

The hyena growls low in his throat. "Yeah, well, too bad for you," he says, and chucks a snowball off of the glacier petulantly, like a child.

The vulture frowns at him. "I would like to remind you that despite what you may think, I am not actually subordinate to you," he says, a note of warning in his tone. "You can tell your master that if you do not treat me with respect I am well in my rights to dissolve our agreement."

"Ah, whatever." The hyena rolls his shoulders back and peers up at the sky, cloudy and gray, threatening snow. "You got any updates or what?"

"As a matter of fact," says the vulture with a sigh, "I do. The new subject is yielding impressive results. We're working on refining and weaponizing its abilities now. We'll notify you when the tests are completed."

The hyena grins, wide and broken like the edge of a knife. "Good. Sensei will be glad to hear that. What about the drugs?"

"Here." The vulture pulls a small box from inside his coat and hands it to the hyena. "This is only a small sample, but we've strengthened its effects. Careful not to overdose or things could get out of hand."

The hyena rolls his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Hey, you should be at the ready, we might need you soon."

"For what?"

"We've got some prey to hunt down." The hyena's smile is gleeful and poisonous and his fingers claw through the air like the talons of some hideous beast. "They've given us the slip but Sensei wants them."

The vulture ponders this for a moment. "Very well," he says. "I will prepare my forces, but I won't promise you an army. I don't—"

"—work for me, yeah, I get it. Just be ready."

The hyena turns, shoulders hunching higher around his neck, and begins to walk away. The vulture remains on the cliffside, watching after him.

"Shigaraki!" he calls. The hyena stops and glances over his shoulder.

"Try not to drop those in the ocean this time!"

The hyena responds with a single middle finger held high in the air. The vulture stoops to brush some snow from his pants and then turns back to gaze out over the water.

"So that old hydra's found some new prey, has he?" muses the vulture to himself. "This should be interesting."

* * *

"I need to talk to him."

Izuku takes a step back, eyes searching. "Are you sure?"

A sigh. Shouto runs a hand down his face and forces his fingers to stop shaking. "I don't want to. And no, I'm not sure. But I need this. I need the closure."

"Can I come with you?"

"No." He's sure of this, at least. "This is something I have to do alone."

Izuku steps forward to cup his face in both hands. "Be careful?" he says, voice soft and breath warm against Shouto's skin. Shouto nods, allowing himself a moment to lean into Izuku's hands, before taking a deep breath and stepping away.

"I will."

* * *

Yuuei's cells stand all but empty.

Apparently they had been mostly unoccupied before, but the council had moved the few people held there to a different location to make room for the prison's newest criminal so now only one is occupied.

The guard at the door, a tall, dark man in a high-collared coat, nods at Shouto with pitying eyes and opens the door for him. "You be careful in there," he warns through blindingly bright teeth.

"Thank you."

The door shuts behind him and then he is standing in a long hallway full of cells. His footsteps echo off of the walls around him, almost loud enough to overcome the heavy pulsing of his heart, but not quite. Every step feels like wading through molasses; he's moving forward through years and years of dread and fear.

But he has to do this. He has to. This is the only way he'll ever find peace.

He stops in front of the last cell and straightens his spine as much as possible. Shouto summons all of his courage and forces himself to look directly into the eyes of the occupant.

"Father," he says.

Enji's eyes narrow. "Shouto," he growls, and that voice sends tremors through Shouto's body. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to see you in your disgrace," says Shouto as bravely as he can. "I needed to see you beaten."

Anger flashes through Enji's eyes and he tugs reflexively at the Kosei-blocking restraints around his wrists. "You had better watch yourself, boy."

"Hm," says Shouto. What he wants to say is _or what_? but those blazing eyes render him speechless. It takes him a good thirty seconds to shake it off and come up with a reply. "Where did you hide my mother?"

"Why do you care? She doesn't want you."

And yes, Shouto is afraid of that. He remembers the look in her eyes when she poured the kettle over his face. But he also remembers the feeling of her arms around him, and he remembers that Enji is always, always lying.

"It doesn't matter if you'll tell me or not," says Shouto. "I'll find her regardless. I'll find her and I'll ask for her forgiveness, and I will give her forgiveness of my own. Because I do not blame her for what she did to me. All of it, all of that pain that I went through, was because of you."

"All of it was to _teach_ you," snaps Enji. "You're _weak_. You had to be groomed or—"

"If I had let you groom me the way you wanted to, then I would have become you. And that is the worst thing I could ever be."

Enji jerks forward in his chair, chains clanking around him. "How dare you," he snarls, eyes raging with flame. "I _created_ you."

Shouto breathes in deeply and then lets it all out in a whoosh of air. There was a time when he'd have been afraid, in this situation, but he has grown beyond his father's influence. He refuses to let Enji have any more control over his feelings or his life.

"I have come to realize," says Shouto carefully. "That I am no one's creation. I am my own person. No one controls me but myself."

Enji is nearly spitting with rage now, his face beet red and his hands clenched into fists. If he could access his Kosei, Shouto is sure he would have long since burst into flames.

(If he could access his Kosei, Shouto thinks, he would be much more afraid.)

"You _impudent_ child!" roars Enji. "I know you think you've won, but I will regain power! This is a broken world, Shouto; it is not so hard to regain influence. The people are spiteful. They worship strength. I _will_ get out. And when I do," he pauses and leans forward as much as he can in his restraints, red eyes piercing and lips twisted into a snarl, "when I do I will make you _pay_ for your insolence."

Shouto's heart tries to fly out of his throat, but he grabs onto it with both hands and wrestles it back into his ribcage. He's done being afraid of this man. It's time to move on.

"No," he says coolly. "I don't think you will."

* * *

The door opens with a creak and there is Shouto. His face is pale but his jaw is clenched, a firm line that declares, _I am strong. Nothing can break me_. It is immensely powerful, but looking upon it, Izuku thinks he has never seen anything sadder.

Shouto should not _have_ to be strong like that. He should not have those jagged lines. He should have soft eyes and warm smiles and easy laughter. He should not have to speak with measured words and move with only careful touches.

Izuku steps forward and wraps his arms around Shouto, and the instant he does so the other boy crumples. He's shaking all over, hands fisting in Izuku's sweater, and Izuku feels helpless.

"Shh," he says, and runs a hand through soft peppermint hair. "It's okay, Shouto, love."

"Love?" mumbles Shouto into Izuku's shoulder.

"I told you I loved you and I meant it," says Izuku calmly. "I will always mean it."

Shouto grips him harder and lets out a choked sound that has Izuku dipping his chin to rest atop his boyfriend's hair. "Hey, you'll be alright. He can't touch you anymore."

"I know," says Shouto, and finally the tremors subside. He straightens, pulling back slightly, and looks at Izuku with eyes only a bit damp. "I'm free now, and it's because of you."

"No, you could have freed yourself, I just—"

"Izuku. Without you, I wouldn't have ever—"

Izuku puts a hand over Shouto's lips. "Let's compromise," he says. "You did not free yourself and I did not free you. We did it together, just like we did everything else."

He can feel Shouto smile into his palm. The other boy nods and Izuku removes his hand, settling it instead against his cheek. "Let's go home, okay?" says Izuku.

"Home?"

"Yeah," says Izuku, and thinks of his mother's eyes when she told them to look after each other, all those days ago as they'd prepared to run. He thinks of the fragile look on Shouto's face when he'd looked at his plants, the wonder he'd shown at the taste of a single raspberry. "Home."

Shouto turns his head and presses a butterfly kiss against Izuku's palm. "Okay," he says quietly. "Let's go home."

* * *

 **I'm SOFT.**

 **Anyway hope it was worth the wait! Let me know what you thought!**


	22. epilogue

**Well, folks, this is it. The final chapter of Icefall.**

 **Enjoy.**

* * *

 **i. farewell**

"You be careful, my boy," says Toshinori, and places a hand on Izuku's shoulder. Green eyes look up into blue and the moment stretches, neither knowing what to say or how to say it.

"Toshinori," says Izuku, and the words are choked by tears. Then he is rushing forward, throwing his arms around his mentor's too-thin middle. One large hand moves to cup the back of his head, gently caressing his curls, and the other wraps comfortingly around his shoulders.

"Shh, my boy. You'll be back. We'll see each other again before you know it. There's no need to cry."

"You could come with us?" says Izuku, though he knows it is futile. "We could make space, and Mom wouldn't mind—"

"Izuku." Toshinori lowers himself to one knee and smiles kindly. "I'm needed here. You know that."

"I know."

"Then go. Complete your journey without me. You are stronger now, grown and fully capable of standing on your own two feet. Go home and rest, and come back when you are ready. Can you do that?"

Izuku nods mutely and holds on tighter. When they separate, his face is wet, but he holds himself bravely.

"Goodbye, Toshinori," he says. "I'll come back soon."

"I know you will," says Toshinori. "And I will be waiting. But for now: good luck, and farewell."

"I'll make you proud," says Izuku, standing tall in the window-light, hair gleaming emerald. "When I come back, I'll change the world the way you said I would when you gave me your legacy."

"Of course you will," says Toshinori, and he smiles.

* * *

 **ii. entourage**

"Wait, you're coming?"

Eijirou nods excitedly. "The council didn't think it was safe to just let you go alone, with those creepy people who attacked you still at large. So they're sending a few escorts and they said I could come too!"

"Great!" says Ochako, beaming.

"Who else is coming?" asks Izuku.

"I am." It's the short, green-haired girl who'd been part of their escape group. "I'm Tsuyu Asui."

Izuku smiles and offers a hand. "Nice to meet you, Tsuyu!" She accepts the handshake, fingers wrapping all the way around and dwarfing his own comparatively tiny hand. Tsuyu notices him looking and grins with her tongue half-out.

"I will be there as well." It's Aizawa, looking half-asleep and very much like he'd rather be inside, away from the cold.

Shouto steps in close, radiating heat into the point of contact between their arms. Izuku turns to him with a fond smile and nudges him slightly.

"We're good, now," he says. What he means is, _look at all these people who are willing to protect us. Look at how safe we are_. He doesn't say these things but he thinks Shouto hears them anyway.

Shouto slips their hands together and returns the smile. "Yeah," he says, meaning _I have never felt safer and I love you so_. "We're good."

* * *

 **iii. departure**

"Goodbye, Yuuei!" shouts Ochako. Her voice is carried by the wind, echoing across the snow, and down at the city's edge a small boy turns and waves. She waves back, grinning, and bounces a few times on her toes.

The sun rises above their heads, early morning oranges turning to daytime blues, and Ochako thinks there is nothing more beautiful than the sight of life upon the tundra. It's proof that the world, despite being broken, is not beyond recovery.

People are like that too, she thinks, and as she does so she turns to smile at her friends. She looks at Izuku and Shouto, hand in hand, faces flushed in the cold wind, and she knows that despite everything, life will go on, as it must.

Even the ice cannot end all warmth, and even the apocalypse cannot end love.

It's beautiful. It's beautiful like flowers in the snow or the sun rising high above the glaciers.

"Alright," says Ochako, rubbing her hands together for warmth. "Let's go."

* * *

 **iv. weight**

"Did you find him?"

Izuku turns. They'd stopped for a moment beneath the pines to reorient themselves, and it is in this moment that Izuku realizes why he'd thought the grove so familiar. The small, gray man standing in the shadows is watching him with eyes like steel, waiting.

"Yes," says Izuku.

"Good," says Torino, and nods. "Then you're going home, now?"

"Yes."

"Good luck, kid." Torino turns away, raising a hand over his shoulder. "You have quite the weight on your shoulders, but you bear it well."

"Thank you," says Izuku softly, and then Torino is gone.

His load is heavy, yes, but he does not feel its weight. It is easy to carry, when he does not have to bear it alone.

* * *

 **v. contemplation**

"Shouto?"

The fire crackles cheerily, sending sparks up into the sky like glimmering fireflies sent to the heavens.

"Hm?" Shouto replies, peering upwards from where he is lying with his head in Izuku's lap into a face cast in shadow.

"Do you ever think how lucky we are? To have found each other? To have been helped by so many?"

Shouto nods. "Every moment. And I think how lucky I am to have met you. If you hadn't stumbled into the Castle that one night…"

Izuku hums softly and runs gentle fingers through Shouto's hair. It's a calming sensation, and Shouto leans into it, closing his eyes.

"Do you ever regret it?"

Shouto opens his eyes again. "What?"

"Running away?"

"Not even for a second," is his immediate reply. "I would not trade this for the world."

"Me neither," says Izuku, and leans down so that his head is resting on Shouto's chest. His hair tickles Shouto's cheek and he feels a laugh bubbling in his throat.

"What are you laughing about?" murmurs Izuku.

"Nothing," says Shouto, feeling lighter than he has in years. "I'm just happy, is all."

Izuku huffs out a laugh of his own at that, reaching down to intertwine their fingers.

"I'm happy, too."

* * *

 **vi. tenya**

"There it is," calls Tenya, pointing. The building is familiar, sturdy and unyielding, and the warmth that spreads through his chest is the same as he always feels upon returning home after his lengthy deliveries, even if this time it is strangely bittersweet.

"I suppose this is where I leave you."

"Oh, Tenya!" Ochako is throwing herself at him, wrapping him in warm arms and squeezing tightly. "I'm going to miss you!"

"You only live a few miles away, Ochako, you can visit me if you want."

"I know," she sighs. "But it's not the same."

Tenya thinks of the time they have spent together, all of them; laughter and walking and sleeping and fighting, all side-by-side, all unfailingly steadfast. That is the type of connection that can only be forged through fire.

"I know," he says, and she releases him.

"Tenya," says Izuku. Tenya turns to him, standing with Shouto at his side, both of them watching him with eyes full of emotion. "I...thank you. For everything. You've helped us so much and...thank you."

"There's no need to thank me," says Tenya, and he means it. "I only did what was right."

"No," says Shouto quietly. "You did what was good. Not everyone is strong enough to do that. I thank you from the very bottom of my heart."

Tenya smiles, and then reaches out to pull the both of them into a hug. Izuku squeaks and Shouto stiffens, but then they are relaxing as one and this is warm, this is _safe_ , and Tenya would be lying if he said there was no pressure building in his throat.

There's footsteps on the snow and then Ochako is latching onto the hug, dragging an unwilling Katsuki with her. This sudden attack unbalances them and then they are falling to the snow in a laughing, crying bundle, and Tenya is thinking, _I will never again find friends like these._

"We'll visit," says Izuku through tears.

Tenya swallows around a lump of heat and holds on tightly to these people who he has followed through fire.

"You'd better."

* * *

 **vii. ochako**

Ochako is already crying by the time they reach the town's edge.

"No, Ochako, please don't cry," pleads Izuku as tears of his own begin to stream down his face. Ochako points at his face and laughs and laughs and laughs.

"We're so pathetic," she says, and throws her arms around his neck.

Shouto is shifting uncomfortably nearby. "We should go," he says, and memories of abduction and anger flash through the frost-cold air. Ochako nods and releases Izuku, only to throw herself at Shouto.

"You be safe," she says, brandishing a finger. "You protect each other."

Izuku smiles. "When have we not?"

"Can we just _go_ already?" scoffs Katsuki, and then curses loudly as Ochako embraces him in turn.

"I'll miss you too, you big grouch," she sniffles, and holds him tight, and for once Katsuki does not struggle. One gloved hand even pats awkwardly at her back.

A light turns on in the village. Ochako breaks away and takes several steps backwards, leaving deep footsteps in the snow. "I'll be waiting for our next adventure," she says, and smiles through her tears.

"Thank you, Ochako," says Izuku in one last word of parting. "For everything."

She laughs wetly and then turns, breaking into a run as if to slow down would be to turn back.

Izuku watches her go and sighs heavily.

There is nothing sadder than goodbye.

* * *

 **viii. eijirou**

"Why did you decide to help us, back in Yuuei?" asks Izuku. Eijirou turns and shrugs his shoulders.

"The world is in pieces," he says. "The least I can do is try to share a little kindness."

"Not everyone would, you know," says Shouto. "Some would take the opportunity to take power for themselves."

"But that would be wrong," says Eijirou like it's simple, because for him, it is. To do good is to make the sun shine a little brighter. A little kindness goes a long way.

"That's why we chose him," offers Aizawa. He hasn't spoken much this journey, so his input is a surprise, though not an unwelcome one. "We need that sort of kindness to lead us into a better future."

"Eijirou's always been one of the better ones, though," says Tsuyu. "That's why we accepted his judgement of you with so little explanation. He's not often wrong about people."

"Aw," blushes Eijirou. "Guys."

"Well, thank you," says Shouto. "You helped us more than you can know."

* * *

 **ix. arrangements**

"We'll be checking in, occasionally," says Aizawa. "The council is busy, so we'll most likely be sending students. But we intend to build a community and for that we'll need your help."

Izuku nods. "I understand. I'll come back as soon as I can."

"Not too soon, I hope," says Aizawa, surprisingly gentle. "If you are anything like your mentor, you will be dedicated to the extremes. Don't drive yourself into the ground. You've been through a lot. Rest."

Tears sting hot and wet in Izuku's eyes and he bows. "Thank you," he says.

"No need." Aizawa tightens his scarf around his neck and points at the dark homesteads nestled in the snow. "Now go."

"Goodbye!" shouts Eijirou, and Tsuyu waves.

Izuku smiles."

* * *

 **x. katsuki**

"Deku," says Katsuki.

The snowflakes seem to still in the air around them. Izuku turns slowly and does not flinch. They have been through too much together for that.

"Yes, Kacchan?"

"I wanted...I have something I want to say."

Izuku's heart beats loud in his ears, and Shouto's hand tightens almost imperceptibly around his. "What?"

Katsuki sighs and runs a hand through his blonde spikes. Their childhood flashes before them, years of anger and cruelty and pride, and it is followed by this space between them now, protection and fear and something like respect.

"I'm sorry," says Katsuki, and what he means is, _I am sorry for everything I have done to you. I am sorry for all your pain and all my anger. I am sorry for the way you are hurt and for the fire I have brandished against you._

Izuku doesn't hear these things, but he sees it in Katsuki's eyes. He sees apology and swallowed pride and deep-rooted regret.

"I'm not going to say it's okay," says Izuku, and Katsuki actually _flinches_. "Because it's not. And I'm not going to forgive you. But maybe…"

He thinks of the fierce way Katsuki had protected him in Ochako's village, in Yuuei, in that alleyway away from the marketplace. He thinks of the anger he'd seen when he'd found him unhurt after his abduction, the relief.

Katsuki has done unspeakable things to him, in the past. But maybe he's growing. Maybe he's learning.

"Maybe we can try to start over," says Izuku, and holds out a hand.

Katsuki stares at it for a long moment and then, amazingly, takes it. The subsequent shake is a firm one, and in it is a promise: to do better, to _be_ better.

"Bye, Deku," says Katsuki. "Bye, Half-and-Half."

Then he turns in the snow and heads for his home.

* * *

 **xi. anticipation**

Izuku takes a deep breath. The door stands before him, all wet-wood and light-glow from between the cracks, and inside is his mother. Inside is home.

Shouto squeezes his hand. "It's okay."

"I know."

And then he knocks.

* * *

 **xii. reunion**

"Mitsuki?" calls Inko. "Is that you?"

There's no answer, and Inko frowns. Perhaps someone has gotten lost. Perhaps…

She opens the door and there is her son.

"Oh," says Inko, and drops the basket full of fresh tomatoes from the garden. Izuku catches it deftly but she's not paying attention to that. All she can see is her son's wet green eyes and his wobbly, beautiful smile.

"Izuku!" she cries, and throws her arms around him, dragging him over the threshold. "Oh, my baby, you're home, you're home!"

"I'm home, Mom," laughs Izuku, and hugs her back with all the strength in his arms. "I'm home."

"Are you hurt?" Inko steps back to better scan his body for injuries. He's covered in small bandages, but aside from that there don't seem to be any major injuries. "Are you safe? What's happened, are you—"

Her eyes catch on the boy standing lost in her doorway. His hand still grips the basket of tomatoes from when Izuku had shoved it at him and his hair glows red and white in the firelight.

"Shouto," says Inko, recalling the boy's name. "You kept your promise. You kept the both of you safe. You brought him home."

He looks up at this and smiles with his eyes if not with his lips. "Yeah," he says, and she does not miss the fond look he sends towards Izuku. "I did."

"Are _you_ alright?"

Shouto looks surprised at this, but then Izuku moves to take his hand and those ice-and-flame eyes soften. "Yes."

"Good."

* * *

 **xiii. last leg**

"Aren't you staying?"

"Yes," says Izuku. "We'll stay, at least for a while. But there's one last thing we have to do first."

His mother regards him with emerald eyes the same as his. Her gaze flicks once towards Shouto, carefully placing his pack on the bed, and a smile flickers over her lips.

"Alright. But you come home as soon as you've finished, promise me."

"I promise."

* * *

 **xiv. ouroboros**

It ends where it begins.

Shouto stands atop the First Glacier and watches the ocean churn. The sea air blows through his hair, hauntingly familiar, and Shouto can almost feel the commanding presence of the Castle behind him.

But he feels no fear or sadness. How can he, with Izuku at his side, radiating warmth and safety, radiating love?

"I can do this," he says.

"Ok," says Izuku. "I believe you."

Hand in hand, they head down the glacier's edge.

* * *

 **xv. snowmelt**

At the base of the First Glacier is a narrow strip of rocky shoreline, leftover from the beach's former glory. It is here they stand now, boots wet with sand and surf.

Shouto takes a deep breath and summons his fire.

"Izuku," he says. "I'm going to need your help."

"Of course," says Izuku, and slides their hands together. Energy churns between them, lives and power shared, and Shouto presses his left hand to the glacial wall.

 _This is to break free of the cage. This is to right the wrongs. This is in defiance of everything my father made me. This is the love I feel in my heart, the warmth shared between smiles. This is his hand in mine. This is safety. This is home._

Shouto channels all of his life and all of his love into the palm of his hand and it manifests in heat and flame. He pours all of his strength through it, _all of it_ , and it combines with Izuku's own strength to create a power to rival the horrific outburst of his childhood.

 _I am free from my past_ , thinks Shouto.

Slowly, steadily:

The ice begins to melt.

* * *

 **Maxing out at over 74 thousand words and 22 chapters, Icefall is the longest thing I have ever written. It is also the thing that has gotten the most attention, and I am honestly overwhelmed by the amount of support. I'm going to go into thank you's in a moment, but first: below is some information that I think is pertinent, so I ask you to read just a little longer.**

 _ **Now for some thanks.**_

 **First off I'd like to give special thanks to tuesyays and Nopedog for making some beautiful Icefall artwork. I have never received art for a fic before, so I cannot tell you how much it means that you would find inspiration in my words.**

 **I'd also like to thank LadySunami, who helped me worldbuild and worked through some kinks in the story. I appreciate your help.**

 **Thank you to those of you who left comments, whether you were here from the beginning or joined later on. I read every single comment, even if I don't always respond to all of them, and your words never fail to make me smile. I know it can be difficult or anxiety-inducing to think of words to say, but I just want you to know I appreciate the effort you put in to leaving me feedback.**

 **A final thank you goes out to every single one of my readers, whether you commented, favorited, followed, or just sort of lurked. I know you're there, and I appreciate you. Icefall is nothing without its audience and so you have my most sincere thanks.**

 **Now the question that I'm sure is on your minds:**

 _ **WHAT'S NEXT? **_

**Yes, there is a sequel planned. I don't have it entirely fleshed out yet, but I have a pretty general idea of how I want it to go. It will bring back all of your favorite characters and will take place a few months after Icefall. However, I'm not going to start writing it immediately. I'm going on a short hiatus.**

 **When the sequel is posted, it will be posted in the Icefall series, so subscribe to that if you want to know when it's posted. I don't have a definitive title, but I'm thinking maybe "Snowmelt."**

 _ **So when will it be back?**_

 **In March and April I will be participating in the BNHA Brofest, which is a two-month-long writing challenged focused on bringing more gen, platonic-focus fits into the fandom. The story I'm planning involves an aged-up Izuku adopting Eri and eventually giving her One For All, so if that's interesting to you, stay tuned. In any case, that is what I will be doing for the next two months, in addition to planning the sequel and working on schoolwork.**

 **In late June/early July I will be leaving the country for three weeks, during which time I do not expect to be able to write at all. I'd like to start the sequel before then, however, so that I can be sure my interests won't slide. So with all these things in mind, _the sequel should be posted sometime in May_ , although it could be sooner depending on how impatient I get, especially with season three coming out in April.**

 _ **What happens in the meantime?**_

 **You can always stop by my tumblr (thepensword) for progress updates, in addition to minifics, original writing, poetry, artwork, and much more. I'd love to hear from you so if you have any questions go ahead and ask them. I have several BNHA-themed prompt requests that I'll be writing in the next few weeks, so if you're interested, just head on over.**

 **If you want to keep up with the characters, stop by the ask blog (ask-icefall). You can talk directly to any character that appears in Icefall (or, I suppose, any character that doesn't that you're curious about.)**

 **In addition to these things, I am always writing. I don't post everything here, but if you like my work, come visit me on ao3 for more.**

 ** _And that is all._ **

**Once again, thank you so much for the massive support I've gotten. I cannot tell you how much it means to me. Icefall has helped me grow as a writer and I'm actually really sad to end it. But new things loom on the horizon and I hope you'll join me in the sequel.**

 **See you next time,**

 **thepensword**


End file.
